N Y X
The corridor outside his chamber was quieter than the one we had come through earlier, the air cooler, heavier, as though the stone itself remembered restraint.
The maid walked a step ahead of me now, lantern held low, her shoulders tense with the awareness of whose space we were passing through.
Raiden’s space.
I felt him even through the walls, an oppressive, watchful presence that pressed against my senses like a storm held back by sheer will.
The door beside his stood at the end of the corridor, identical in make, carved from the same dark wood, marked with the same old runes along the frame.
But the moment it opened, the difference was undeniable.
The room was a mirror of his in structure alone.
Dust clung faintly to the corners. The air smelled unused, stagnant beneat
