Later that night, Ash found himself unable to rest. The events of today and what felt like one of the biggest active decisions that he had made in his life echoed in his thoughts like a drumbeat that refused to fade.
His steps carried him to the viewing platform, where the Glade unfurled like a dream beneath the night. A silken veil of mist drifted low over the waters, silvered by moonlight that scattered like liquid glass across the surface.
The lake below breathed in hushed ripples, each one catching the pale glow and bending it into shifting fragments of light. Waterlilies floated like fragile stars, their petals quivering as the gentle current disturbed them. The whole scene seemed alive, as though the night itself exhaled in slow rhythm, cloaking the Glade in a beauty both fragile and eternal.
