Damien's room was silent, save for the occasional creak of the wooden bed as Damien shifted restlessly.
No matter how much he tried to calm his mind, sleep refused to come.
His thoughts drifted—Westmont, the Teleportation Array, Lizella's promise, and Queen Lareen's words. But beyond those matters, there was something else.
A restlessness inside him.
A quiet but persistent urge, like an itch beneath his skin that refused to be ignored. Finally, after an hour of tossing and turning, Damien sat up with a sigh. 'This is pointless.'
Rising from the bed, he stretched his arms before heading toward the window. The night air, cool and crisp, beckoned. He could already hear the distant sounds of the city, muffled by the stone walls.
The door was locked, a security measure for rented rooms, but that didn't matter to him.
With ease, Damien slid the window open and, without a moment's hesitation, climbed out onto the ledge.
