The night had only just begun to settle when another disturbance stirred within Valkoron.
This time, the heavens remained silent.
No thunder roared. No lightning split the skies any longer. Yet the unease that crept through the castle halls was no less severe.
Because this storm….Had walked in through the doors.
The great doors of Valkoron's grand hall stood open, tall and imposing beneath the glow of torchlight. Flames flickered along the walls, steady now—tamed, controlled, obedient.
A sharp contrast to the chaos they had embodied earlier. But though the fire had calmed….The tension had not. Because at the center of the vast hall stood a lone figure.
Cloaked in deep crimson, his presence drew the eye instantly. The fabric of his cloak was rich and heavy, embroidered with intricate patterns that seemed almost alive, shifting subtly whenever the firelight brushed against them.
