The lights of the palace illuminated the hallways. Servants lingered in the shadows, carrying out their duties with quiet diligence. Whenever their gazes fell on the Imperial General, they bowed immediately in greeting. But the man in question did not return their glances. He strode forward, pacing down the corridor as if possessed.
"Zayden?" a voice called out.
His steps faltered. The sound pierced through his ears, forcing him to stop. Slowly, he turned.
A young man stood a few paces away. The golden lights spilled over him, catching in his dark, curly green hair, which framed the sharp cut of his jawline. His thin frame was draped in a white shirt embroidered with threads of gold that shimmered faintly in the glow.
Zayden's breath caught. For a moment, he wondered if his mind had finally betrayed him.
Was this… a hallucination? Because there was no way Enzo Fenzis would have been here—in Revhara, and much less in the imperial palace.
