The Silver-Cloaks didn't just guard the castle; they haunted it.
Every hallway was now a gauntlet of metallic clanking and the judgmental stares of the Council’s elite. They stood at every door, their null-iron spears crossed, officially "protecting" the Luna, but in reality, they were waiting for the first sign of black smoke to erupt from my skin.
"They're watching the vents, Silas," I whispered, standing in the center of our darkened bedchamber.
The only light came from the dying embers in the hearth, casting long, dancing shadows against the stone walls. My shoulders ached from the weight of the velvet gown I’d worn all day, but beneath the fabric, the black veins felt like they were humming—a low-frequency vibration that seemed to be calling out to the night.
Silas was by the wind
