EMMA
The guards' quarters were unusually quiet.
By the time I was halfway down the long stone lobby, it was unsettling—so unlike the last time I'd been here when the space had been buzzing with life.
Back then, I'd run into Brian on patrol, and he'd casually described his room to me. That little detail saved me from wandering around aimlessly now.
I stopped outside his door and rapped my knuckles lightly. "Brian?"
No response.
I hesitated, then turned the doorknob. The hinges creaked as the door swung open, revealing an empty room.
Frowning, I stepped inside. The air was still and faintly smoky, carrying the lingering scent of burnt wood. I walked toward the window, which overlooked the courtyard, and leaned out slightly, hoping to spot someone I could ask about Brian's whereabouts.
Instead, my gaze landed on the wall clock.
It was a few minutes past seven.
