The Moon Eagle's Arrival
Then - Bang!
A sudden crash echoed as the twin doors burst wide, noise sprinting upward along gilded columns before slamming into the arched roof above.
A figure moved past the doorway.
A coarse, dark robe hung on him, its cloth dulled by dirt and long roads, damp where it pressed against his skin. Not neat, his black hair stuck out in patches, shaped more by air than care. Young he was, far too fresh for the burden stamped across his features, yet tiredness had already begun sketching hollows under his gaze. Awake they stayed, those eyes, clear even when weary, fixed like a man fleeing not only miles but thoughts better left behind.
Shoulders snapped upright when he entered, tension freezing the air. With every step, sound bounced off stone - slow, steady, ticking forward. Rushing was never part of his way. Pausing wasn't either. What followed stayed close behind, already here.
