—--
By the following morning, the courtyard bustled with a quiet but palpable urgency as preparations for the journey to Mariana were well underway.
Horses shifted restlessly, their hooves clinking against stone, nostrils flaring as their breath curled into the cold like silver wraith. Their unease mirrored the tension coiling through the people around them.
Leather bags were cinched tight and loaded onto carriages, alongside wooden crates, marked with seals and inked with symbols. They were all supplies meticulously gathered for the long voyage ahead. Guards checked and rechecked their weapon, their brows furrowing with the weight of what truly laid ahead.
Esme stood quietly at the threshold of the manor, warmfully cloaked in thick wolf pelt and winter-stiffened leather. The wind lifted her hair into soft, floating strands, though she hardly noticed.
