The gates of Silverclaw Castle groaned open as Silas returned, his horse's hooves striking the stone courtyard with echoing finality. Snow clung to the hem of his dark cloak, and the air tasted of iron and regret.
He didn't pause to greet the servants who rushed forward. Didn't glance at the trembling steward or the wide-eyed guards lining the entrance hall.
They all knew. Or at least, they thought they did.
He said nothing as he walked past them, his boots cutting clean through the frost-dusted floor, his expression unreadable beneath the polished stillness he wore like armor. But inside—
Inside, he burned.
He reached his chambers in long, soundless strides and slammed the door behind him with a single, unthinking push of magic. The room trembled, the flames in the sconces flickering under the force of it.
