THIRD PERSON's POV.
The room was built from stone.
Old stone. The kind that had stood for centuries, weathered by time and soaked in secrets. The walls were thick, the ceiling low, and the single window was narrow—more of a slit than an opening, letting in only the barest sliver of moonlight.
A candle sat on the table in the center of the room. Its flame flickered, weak and struggling against the cold air that seemed to seep from the very walls.
Two figures stood in the shadows.
Neither moved toward the light. Neither spoke for a long moment.
Then, finally, one of them broke the silence.
"She's at Ravenwood."
The voice was calm and ancient in a way that had nothing to do with age and everything to do with power. It was the voice of someone who had seen empires rise and fall, who ha
