[Silthara Palace—The Night—Lady Nyra's Chamber—Zahryssar]
The palace slept beneath moonlight, silent, ancient, and watchful. Outside the chamber windows, the silver desert stretched endlessly beneath the stars.
Inside, only a single lantern burned softly. Its golden light danced across the walls, across forgotten toys, across old books and across a small bed where a child slept peacefully.
Lady Nyra's breathing was slow and steady, peaceful and untroubled. As though the empire beyond her doors was not crumbling, as though kings were not plotting. As though monsters were not hiding behind crowns.
One of her small hands remained wrapped around a finger. Sarash's finger. Even in sleep...she refused to let go.
Sarash lowered his gaze, watching her sleeping face. The way her hair spilled across the pillow, the way she unconsciously pulled his hand closer whenever he attempted to move.
