He found her where he always did when the city felt too small to breathe—
on the edge of the gardens, where the moonlight broke clean over stone and shadow.
She shouldn't be out, but now there was a magic barrier so strong even the gods couldn't peak inside this estate without permission.
Velrosa sat in silence, spine straight, hands resting on her lap like folded daggers.
The wind brushed her silver hair across her face, and she didn't bother to move it. Her gaze was fixed on the horizon—the same black smear above a forest they'd all been pretending not to look at for days.
"I thought you might come," she said without turning.
"It seems...i always do these days, doesn't it my lady?"
She exhaled through her nose. "Eh...don't try to sound noble. You're still not good at it."
He stepped beside her and didn't answer right away. The wind had a bite tonight, one that wasn't natural. There was something on the air—like ash that hadn't burned yet.
"I'm going," Ian said.
