Toward the Prison Halls
Footsteps barely touching the path, Leon broke the silence around the house. The breeze changed direction without warning.
Warmth once close to his skin - gentle looks, hushed sounds, the feel of known hands - drifted off as if shed without effort. Moments earlier, he'd stood as a partner. A person. One who eased at the lightest trace of a well-known hand near his arm.
Up ahead, the stone stairs touched his shoes, while the disguise slipped once more into position.
His face was calm again when he stepped onto the wide stone walkway.
Footsteps echoed, then every guard in the hallway snapped upright.
Fans of sunlight slid across steel plates stamped with the seven-headed serpent, each one glowing like fire on rock. At once, every helmet dipped low in unison. Chests met knuckles - crisp, loud, and exactly alike.
"My king."
