By the time the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the manor was still and quiet. The golden glow of morning filtered through the tall glass windows, falling across the sleeping figures scattered around Asher's room.
He rose quietly, careful not to wake the others. Catherine stirred slightly beside him, murmuring his name in her sleep before settling again. For a moment, he simply stood there—watching the peace that had eluded them for so long finally rest upon their faces.
Then, with a faint smile, he turned toward the window. The sky above the higher realm shimmered faintly, streaks of aurora-like light twisting across the pale clouds. It was beautiful—serene, yet humming with quiet power.
He knew peace would not last long.
By the time everyone had woken and gathered in the main hall, the air was filled with a gentle sense of anticipation. Servants—manifestations of Asher's will—moved efficiently, preparing breakfast and bringing travel cloaks.
