Clara and Thea glanced around the grand inner compound of the Austere Clan, their eyes scanning the neat rows of ancient pavilions and cultivated gardens. They didn't have to look long.
Standing at a distance, statuesque and poised, was Veronica.
Before either of them could react, several clan servants, dressed in the signature black and silver robes of the Austere Clan, approached with crisp bows. Their demeanor was cold and formal, yet efficient, reflecting the discipline the clan was known for.
"This way, honored guests," one of them said, gesturing toward a winding stone path.
Clara and Thea exchanged a glance before following silently. The atmosphere grew heavier with each step, not just from the imposing architecture, but from a tangible weight in the air—an invisible force pressing gently against their shoulders.
As they entered a wide courtyard enclosed by tall, ancient walls, the sensation grew so intense that Thea stumbled slightly. A gasp escaped her lips.
