The winter snow continued to fall over Bloodstone Manor long after the final caravan disappeared beyond the northern hills.
By dawn, the primary roads had once again become smooth blankets of untouched white, effectively hiding every wheel track left behind by the departing guests. Only the vivid memories of the historic summit remained to prove the gathering had occurred at all.
Inside the estate, life gradually returned to its familiar, comforting rhythm. Servants quietly resumed their daily routines, dusting the grand hallways and tending to the hearths. The kitchens quickly filled with the rich aroma of fresh bread, providing a sense of normalcy to the drafty stone corridors.
