The ruined chamber carried a weight that pressed heavier than the stone ceilings above them. Dust floated lazily in the air, stirred only by their footsteps. Selene moved methodically, her cold eyes scanning the scattered vials and broken jewelry with the precision of someone dissecting a puzzle.
"This doesn't feel like something ceremonial," she murmured, brushing her fingers across an overturned chest of fine clothes. "It's personal. Someone lived here… someone powerful."
Noel didn't answer immediately. His focus was on the cracked desk, its surface marred by deep, violent scratches. He crouched, running a hand along the grooves. A faint shiver crawled into his palm—mana residue, still lingering. But it wasn't fire, frost, or lightning.
It was shadow.
