Castle Varn sat like a shard of obsidian against the bruised twilight sky.
Inside, the air was still and cool, smelling faintly of old stone and expensive, exotic tea. Polished black marble floors reflected the light filtering through high, narrow windows.
Ery moved with silent grace, her steps making no sound. She poured steaming amber liquid into a delicate porcelain cup, the faint clink echoing in the cavernous chamber.
Lord Varn sat impassive in a high-backed chair carved from petrified wood, his fingers steepled before him, eyes closed as if in meditation. Waiting.
Then, the faintest whisper of disturbed air.
Scarlet materialized near the grand entrance, melting from shadows that weren't there a moment before. She stumbled slightly, catching herself before she fell. Her usual predatory poise was fractured, replaced by a hurried, almost desperate energy she fought to conceal. Her cloak was damp, clinging slightly, her breathing faster than usual.
