The corridors of Crescent Moon Castle are quiet by the time Adrian returns. The echoes of his boots strike the stone like thunder after a storm — each step measured, deliberate, heavy with the residue of fury. Servants flatten themselves against the walls as he passes, their eyes cast down, their breaths held until his shadow moves beyond them.
He says nothing. Not a glance, not a word. But his presence alone is enough to still the air. His aura, though contained, still hums faintly — that same violent power that had erupted in the healer’s chamber.
He feels it thrumming beneath his skin, like embers refusing to die out.
By the time he reaches his study, dusk has begun to fall. The tall, arched windows are veiled with thin curtains, filtering the last golden light of day. The room smell
