As the night wore on, the four parted ways under the quiet gaze of the stars. The dragon had been the last to leave, lifting into the sky with wings of shimmering green fire, offering only a cryptic farewell:
'I'll return tomorrow. Be ready.'
No explanation. Just the wind and the shimmer of scales vanishing into the clouds.
"Well, that was sure fun…" Marcus muttered to himself, the weight of fatigue settling into his limbs as he crossed the cobbled street alone. The city, once alive with festival lights and chatter, now lay blanketed in gentle stillness.
His footsteps echoed lightly against the ground as he approached the front gates of his estate—tall wrought iron framed by cold stone pillars. And there, waiting, was a familiar and mildly terrifying figure.
Aveline.
