Nevara
The castle felt different in the morning light.
Not quieter, not exactly. There was still movement in the halls—guards changing shifts, staff beginning their daily routines, the distant murmur of voices carrying through the stone corridors. But beneath it all lingered a subtle heaviness, as if the walls themselves understood that something vital had been lost.
Thoren had left early to attend to the growing list of responsibilities awaiting him. Interrogations, security reviews, and the countless decisions that came with being king could not wait, even in the wake of grief. He had kissed me softly before leaving, promising to return as soon as he could, and I had watched him go with a mixture of pride and sorrow.
Once he was gone, I found myself standing in the corridor outside M
