The gates of Blackthorn Mansion creaked open as Kael's carriage thundered into the courtyard. The sun was already lowering, staining the sky in shades of rust and violet. The torches along the walls sputtered to life, throwing long shadows that stretched across the cobblestones.
Kael stepped down, his cloak sweeping behind him like a phantom's wing. His expression was unreadable, yet the servants scattered from his path, their bows hurried and nervous. There was something in the air around him tonight—something colder, heavier, more dangerous than usual.
Inside, the grand hall was silent, almost too silent. No laughter, no footsteps, no murmur of voices. Kael's boots struck the polished floor with a sharp cadence as he moved deeper, his crimson eyes sweeping across the vast space.
"Where is she?" His voice cut through the silence, low and lethal.
