The carriage rolled out through the palace gates, its wheels groaning softly over the cobblestones slick with night dew. The lanterns hanging from its sides swayed with every jolt, spilling a warm yellow glow that barely lit a few steps ahead.
Inside, Greta sat by the narrow window, staring into the hushed night of Seratha. The air hung heavy, the darkness swallowing every sound that dared pass. Matthias sat across from her, silent. Only the steady rhythm of hooves broke the stillness between them.
Auristella at this hour was practically dead. Doors bolted tight, curtains drawn, streetlamps dimming one by one as if marking the day's end. Now and then, the carriage passed a lone shadow hurrying home, but otherwise the streets lay deserted.
