Avin followed Sylas through the long, echoing hallway. Their footsteps clicked in a strangely rhythmic way — the kind of pattern that made you more aware of how quiet a place was. The lamps hanging from the ceiling flickered softly, giving the golden wallpaper a faint warmth that didn't match how cold the marble floor felt under their shoes.
"Where are we going?" Avin asked, jogging a little to catch up to Sylas's calm, steady pace.
"For dinner," Sylas said, glancing back with that unbothered half-smile of his. "Are you not hungry?"
Avin blinked. "Ah, yes," he replied, only now realizing how long it had been since he'd eaten anything at all. His mind had been running nonstop — fights, weird nobles, explosions, random people screaming at him — and somehow food just… didn't exist in that chaos. But the second Sylas said "dinner," his stomach betrayed him with a long, painful growl.
"I am hungry," he admitted, clutching his stomach.
