The theatre rose before them like a living thing.
Its wide stone façade gleamed under rows of warm lanterns, their glass panes glowing gold against the night. Carriages lined the street, wheels clattering as footmen hurried to open doors for finely dressed patrons.
Ladies stepped down with gloved hands resting on gentlemen's arms, their dresses rustling like soft waves. Gentlemen adjusted their coats, straightened their hats, and spoke in hushed, eager tones.
Noel paused at the foot of the steps.
For a moment, the world felt strangely distant.
The smell of polished wood, perfume, and burning oil reached him all at once. The sound of laughter and conversation drifted outward through the open doors. His heart beat faster, not from fear, but from something dangerously close to excitement.
'I forgot how much I missed this,' he thought. 'The lights. The anticipation. The way everyone holds their breath before the curtain rises.'
