The study remained untouched as the light outside bled slowly from gold into gray.
Draven didn't move.
His hands were still braced against the desk, shoulders rigid, breath slow and controlled. Maps lay spread beneath his palms borders, patrol routes, old conflicts marked with ink but none of it held his attention. The lines blurred together, meaningless against the quiet pressure tightening in his chest.
He straightened at last and turned toward the window.
From here, he could see the inner courtyard. Lanterns were being lit one by one, their glow soft and deliberate. The estate moved as it always had predictable, disciplined. A place built on order.
And yet something fundamental had shifted beneath its stone.
A knock sounded.
"Enter," Draven said without turning.
The door opened quietly. It wasn't a guard.
Selara stepped inside.
