The midnight hour had long passed, leaving Vaugard Manor draped in a heavy, breathless stillness.
Outside, a thick mountain fog pressed against the diamond-paned glass, suffocating the moonlight into a pale, ghostly haze.
Lalaine crept down the spiral staircase of the west wing, her soft velvet slippers making no sound against the cold granite steps.
She wore a simple nightgown of ivory silk, shrouded beneath the dark, fur-trimmed wool robe Beta Barton had provided her earlier that week. In her right hand, she held a small, polished brass lantern, its low flame turned down to a mere amber pinprick to avoid drawing the attention of the nocturnal guards patrolling the perimeter corridors.
Her destination lay deep within the east wing, the Restricted Imperial Vaults of the Grand Archive
