Rianor and Elara's private bedchambers in the Iron Hearth Castle were enveloped in a slowly creeping warmth that night.
In the corner of the room, the stone hearth burned steadily. Crackle... pop... The soft snapping of pine firewood danced playfully behind the protective glass pane.
The lighting was kept dim, relying solely on the amber glow of the hearth and the antique oil lamps mounted on the walls.
Elara was already in bed, half-reclined against a mountain of pillows. Her cream-colored cotton nightgown draped softly over her figure. Her crimson hair cascaded freely, covering one shoulder.
Her purple eyes stared intently at the door.
Beside the bed, her modified Arcanotech wheelchair was parked neatly, positioned close enough to reach. A thick wool blanket covered her legs and lower half.
Click. The door handle pressed down. Rianor stepped inside.
