The heavy brass lock of the courtyard gate yielded with a sharp click, swinging open to reveal the secluded grounds of the Lunar Pavilion.
Caleb Conway stepped across the threshold, his boots sinking into a carpet of pale bamboo leaves that rustled in the mountain breeze. Unlike the exposed gravel terraces of Cloud Mist Peak, this newly allocated estate occupied a private shelf high within the Inner Court, shielded on three sides by dense groves of black bamboo and steep granite walls. At the rear of the compound, two natural springs bubbled continuously from fissures in the bedrock, saturating the air with dense spiritual mist that hummed against Caleb’s skin with five times the potency of the lower peaks.
He did not waste time admiring the carved eaves or the lacquered cedar columns.
