Night had fully settled by the time they made their way to dinner.
This time, the dining hall felt different—not because of its shape or splendour, but because of its emptiness. No courtly presence. No king. No queen. Just the long table, softly illuminated by hanging bioluminescent vines that cast a gentle green-gold glow across polished wood and living stone.
It was quiet.
Comfortably so.
Shesha had seen to the preparations earlier and excused herself once everything was set. The meal was modest by palace standards—warm, simple, intentional. Steamed greens layered with lightly seasoned roots, thin slices of roasted river-fish wrapped in leaves, and a faintly sweet herbal drink that tasted like calm itself.
Luke noticed something as they ate.
He wasn't distracted.
No lingering tension. No restless energy pulling him elsewhere. For once, his thoughts were clear—not empty, but aligned.
Halfway through the meal, he set his utensils down.
"I think we should go tomorrow."
