Darkness shrouded the palace, blanketing the stone halls in silence that was broken only by the occasional hiss of wind that clawed at the windows. The velvet draped windows let in no moonlight.
Velmoria moved through this oppressive gloom, her footsteps barely disturbing the dust motes that danced in the faint light cast by the orb of red light she held in her hand.
Her grip on the orb tightened, its warmth offering comfort against the chill that seeped into her bones. Every creak of the windows, every distant scuttling sound, sent a ripple of unease through Velmoria. The palace, usually bustling with the hushed activity of servants was much more silent than she was used to.
But it wasn't the silence that truly unnerved her, it was the possibility of encountering the young lady of Darvia.
