The night passed in restless silence, the weight of the coming dawn pressing against my chest like a heavy stone. I did not sleep, nor did Lucian. We sat in quiet contemplation, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the chamber walls. There was nothing left to say, no reassurances to be given. By morning, everything would change.
When the first rays of light crept over the horizon, we prepared for our departure. I donned a dark riding cloak over a fitted tunic and trousers, the familiar comfort of Hull's battle-ready attire easing some of the tension coiled in my stomach. My twin daggers rested at my sides, a silent reminder that peace was never promised.
Lucian emerged from his chamber as I stepped into the corridor. He was dressed in dark armor, its intricate silver etchings glinting in the dim torchlight. His sword was strapped across his back, his expression unreadable. He took one look at me, eyes flickering to my attire, and nodded in quiet approval.
