The Night Without Moons
The warm welcome at the Moonwalker Estate had slowly faded into the gentle hush of evening. Deep within the grand halls, where golden chandeliers bathed the marble in soft flickers, Leon stood alone in his chamber. The weight of command rested on his shoulders as his long coat draped elegantly behind him, casting a dignified silhouette in the dim, amber glow.
The last of his wives had already retired to their rooms, the air now quiet, intimate. The estate slumbered under the illusion of peace. But Leon could not.
He stood motionless before the tall, arched window, his gaze sweeping across the cityscape. Tonight, however, Silver City offered no comfort. The heavens above it were cloaked in a thick curtain of brooding clouds. No soft silver light spilled through. The twin moons—ever-present guardians of the night—were absent.
