The corridor to the council hall was still and bright, the marble underfoot holding the faint warmth of morning light spilling through the tall crystal insets.
Kivas's stride was unhurried, Samael trailing half a pace behind with her usual folded-winged stance.
The doors ahead stood open, and the faint scent of burnt resin and archival paper drifted out—a mix that always meant Karasu business.
And as expected of the inky presence, Azulus was there.
She stood just inside the threshold, her small, mouse-eared silhouette framed against the gleam of the hall's polished stone. Her hands were folded neatly in front of her, expression locked in that unshakable, unreadable neutrality she wore like armor.
Flanking her were two Tengus—their appearance was as menacing and creepy as always with how little they talk and move during any segments of meeting where they exist.
