The grandeur of the palace, with its marbled halls and echoing corridors, seemed to muffle time itself. Elara, Katarina, and Herius busied themselves with ensuring the young boy found comfort within its imposing walls. Yet, beneath the tranquility, there was an undercurrent of tension, an unease that hung in the air like the faintest scent of burning incense.
The palace’s expansive gardens became Elara’s sanctuary, where she and the child would lose hours. His innocent laughter, as they chased each other between towering topiaries and blooming roses, was a balm for the soul. It was a reprieve from the weight of uncertainty, a distraction from the silence that held too many unspoken questions. On quieter days, they’d retreat to the palace’s vast library. The boy, engrossed in tales of old and scrolls of wisdom, would sit by Elara’s side, listening intently as she read about ancient remedies, seeking ways to heal the raw marks that crisscrossed his back. Those wounds, while healing, told tales of pain and endurance.
Katarina, with her thirst for knowledge and combat, delved into forgotten tomes on martial arts. Dusty volumes, with their brittle pages, whispered secrets of moves and techniques lost to the world. To her astonishment, the child could decipher even the most intricate magical manuscripts, reading runes and incantations with an ease that belied his age.
As the days melded into nights, the looming forest at the palace’s edge beckoned Aurelius. Under the cover of darkness, sometimes with Herius by his side, he’d disappear into its depths. Whether he went to hunt, to quench a thirst, or to seek answers, none could say. The forest, with its eternal secrets, kept its counsel.
Yet, in stark contrast to his nightly sojourns, Aurelius maintained a deliberate distance from the child during the day. It was as if he wore an invisible cloak, shielding the boy from his own intensity. He had once confided in Elara, his voice softer than the velvet night, “I do not wish to cast a shadow on his newfound peace.”
The palace, with its towering columns and intricate tapestries, held stories in every shadowed corner, and the most pervasive one was that of Aurelius. Even in his absence, he was omnipresent. The heavy drapes would sway ever so slightly as if caressed by the remnants of his last passing, the cold marble floors echoing the footsteps of a man no one saw but always felt. His silent vigilance was like the persistent draft in an old house, a presence that’s always there, but never quite tangible. Aurelius existed in the spaces between breaths, in the pause between heartbeats.
Herius, in stark contrast, was the warm sun to Aurelius’ chilling moon. Where Aurelius was a haunting whisper, Herius was a comforting melody. The older man bore the weight of shared scars — marks of a past that spoke of unspeakable torment. But unlike the boy’s fresh wounds, Herius’ were old, faded with time but forever etched in his soul.
Every time he looked at the child, a pang of guilt tugged at his heart, a gnawing reminder of all he had endured and all he had been powerless to prevent. It was as if he saw a reflection of his younger self in the child, and with every glance, he was reminded of the lost innocence and the burden of survival.
Seeking redemption in acts of kindness, Herius became the boy’s steadfast guardian. He took to anticipating the boy’s needs, from preparing his favorite meals to finding clothes that would make him feel more at home in the grandeur of the palace. They would often be found playing games in the courtyard, their laughter echoing through the vast halls. In those moments, the palace came alive, shedding its stoic exterior to wrap them both in its warm embrace. For Herius, each smile, each giggle from the child was a step towards healing, not just for the boy, but for himself as well.
Within the grand corridors of the palace, a whisper of a name echoed: “Kinder.” It wasn’t a name bestowed by affection but rather one of stark formality, originating from the lips of Aurelius. Still, to the boy it became a beacon—a title that separated him from the faceless identity of just another orphaned child. Elara and Herius had initially resisted, feeling the label too impersonal, too sterile. But their protests dimmed when they saw the glimmer of identity it kindled within Kinder’s eyes. The boy had chosen to embrace it, and that was all that mattered.
On the fifth night, the palace stood draped in a cloak of serene silence. Winter’s bite seemed more pronounced, prompting servants earlier to stoke the fires until they roared with warmth, a bulwark against the cold that threatened to seep through the ancient stones. Gilded hallways basked in a gentle heat radiating from the lit fireplaces in each chamber, an orange-hued antidote to the frigid gusts that blew from the north.
The colossal grandfather clock, with its ornate hands and intricate design, had solemnly chimed midnight an hour earlier. As its last echo faded, the palace bathed in a silver luminance, the moon casting an ethereal glow upon its vast expanse.
Yet not all was still. In the expansive entrance hall, the silhouette of Aurelius stood as unwavering as an ancient sentinel. His posture, though seemingly rigid, hinted at a coiled readiness. His eyes, piercing and vigilant, tracked every shadow that dared to dance at the periphery of the palace grounds. But it wasn’t the looming forest that captured his full attention; it was the gentle rustle of leaves, the song of the night, that seemed to whisper secrets and assurances.
A creak broke the trance. The massive doors inched open, revealing Kinder, his slight form barely denting the grandiosity of the doorway.
“You’ll catch a cold if you venture further,” came the voice of Aurelius, the cool detachment of his words belied by the underlying concern. He didn’t turn, but one could imagine the slightest upturn of his lips, a hint of warmth breaking through the frost.
The palace’s vast hall shimmered under the moon’s caress, its silvery tendrils creating a dance of shadows and light. Amidst this enchantment, the child emerged, swathed in a blanket that flowed like the regal robe of a young prince. His eyes—deep, endless pools that seemed to have trapped the very cosmos—spoke of innocence juxtaposed with experiences too profound for his tender age.
In the immense grandeur of the doorway, the child’s diminutive frame felt out of place, yet the undying fire in his eyes challenged the world, as if asking it to justify the trials he had faced.
“Hey, why are you standing out here?” His voice, soft as the whisper of fallen leaves, carried a hint of mischief, muffled slightly by the icy tendrils of breath that curled away from his lips.
Aurelius, ever the enigmatic guardian, allowed a gentle sigh to escape, “Listening, observing. Nighttime, Kinder, is a canvas of tales waiting to be told.”
Pulling the blanket tighter, Kinder tilted his head, eyes gleaming with contemplation. “Are the stories of the night…frightening for you?” His voice trembled, not from the cold but from the weight of the query.
A momentary silence enveloped them before Aurelius, bathed in the moon’s ethereal glow, replied, “Fear isn’t the emotion, lad. It’s reverence. Understanding the stories, the mysteries— that’s the real adventure.” His voice held the allure of an age-old lullaby. “Now, enough of this cold. Let’s find warmth.”
And with a gesture that felt like a protective embrace, Aurelius ushered the child back to the welcoming warmth of the palace, leaving behind the whispered tales of the night.
Bathed in a silvery cascade from the overhead dome, Kinder’s eyes glittered with a mix of defiance and mischief. The grand foyer of the palace acted as a perfect stage, with the stars overhead lending an ethereal glow. “I can’t drift off,” he began, resisting the gentle pull towards the warm embrace of the palace’s interior. “It’s vast in here, and I just… I craved a midnight snack.”
Aurelius’ usually stern gaze softened just a touch. “You had supper before bedtime,” he reminded the boy, the rich timbre of his voice echoing softly.
With a playful pout and a mischievous glint in his eyes, Kinder retorted, “Doesn’t mean a little hunger can’t creep up on me, does it?” He hugged his blanket closer, its edges trailing on the ornate marble floor, reminding one of a royal cloak.
Observing the boy, Aurelius couldn’t help but feel a tug at his heart. Against his towering presence, Kinder seemed even more diminutive, like a lone star against the vast night sky. It was almost comical, this towering figure momentarily halted by a child’s whims. And in just a few days, the transformation in Kinder was evident. Gone was the shadowed, wary child, replaced by one who now engaged with Aurelius directly, no longer seeking the protective shadows of Katarina, Herius, or Elara.
With a playful roll of his eyes, Aurelius said, “Such audacity.”
Kinder’s lips curved into a grin. “Thank you.”
Aurelius let out a chuckle, the sound deep and rich. “That wasn’t praise,” he remarked, leading the way towards an adjacent corridor. For a heartbeat, Kinder hesitated, dwarfed by the grandeur of the foyer, looking like a lost starling.
From the shadowy depths of the corridor, Aurelius’s voice floated back, dripping with faux impatience. “Well? Hungry or not?”
Kinder’s face lit up, and, stumbling slightly over his trailing blanket, he dashed after the retreating figure. The muffled laughter and the soft patter of his feet echoed through the corridor, making the cold, vast palace feel just a bit warmer.
Bathed in the silvery glow from the corridor’s torches, Kinder trailed tentatively behind Aurelius. Ahead, a grand staircase unfurled like an opulent ribbon, reaching up to the higher floors and diving deep into the palace’s belly. A fleeting peek down those descending stairs sent a shiver through him, its looming darkness reminiscent of memories he’d rather forget. Each fleeting glance at that descent was like a finger’s icy caress, a ghostly reminder of the shadows that once held him captive.
With a creak, the doors to the kitchen swung open. Aurelius, with the poise of one familiar with every nook and cranny, stepped into the waiting gloom. With an elegant snap of his fingers, torches flared to life, pushing back the darkness and casting a golden glow. The room beckoned Kinder in with its newfound warmth. Aurelius cast a fleeting, fond glance towards Kinder, the trailing blanket making him appear every inch the mischievous prince.
With a small, relieved sigh, Kinder settled onto a low stool near the cabinets. He gathered his blanket, pulling it under his feet, and cushioned them atop it. It was a small comfort, a barrier against the cold stone that tried to leech the warmth from his toes.
The gentle scrape of a lid sounded as Aurelius unearthed a pristine ham from a storage box. Its quality, evident even in the subdued light, caught Kinder’s attention immediately. Even though the palace had provided him with sumptuous meals, this ham appeared as if crafted by the hands of a culinary deity. As Aurelius deftly sliced the meat, Kinder’s eyes tracked every movement, the precision and grace captivating him.
In what seemed like no time at all, a delicate plate adorned with glistening ham slices, salt-dusted spring onion, and freshly baked bread was handed to the boy.
“Thank you,” Kinder murmured, fingers gently cradling the porcelain plate. He took slow, thoughtful bites, eyes never leaving Aurelius. Every gaze, though innocent, seemed to be cataloging, understanding, perhaps even searching for some deeper meaning in the elder’s actions.
Aurelius, clearing his throat slightly, ventured, “You should sleep at night. It’ll make you strong.” There was an unfamiliar tenderness in his voice, the timbre of which wasn’t something Kinder had heard often. It was as if Aurelius was gingerly treading the unfamiliar territory of comforting a child, and in that moment, the vast distance between their experiences seemed to close just a little.
Soft lamplight flickered across the kitchen, casting shadows that danced upon the stone walls as Kinder cheekily posed his question. “Shouldn’t you heed your own words?” He took another bite from the ham, savoring its richness. The corners of his mouth turned upwards into a teasing grin, betraying both mischief and contentment.
A genuine laugh rumbled from Aurelius’s chest, a sound that echoed warmly in the otherwise hushed room. “The heavens must’ve sprinkled extra audacity in you,” he retorted playfully, neatly avoiding the implication of Kinder’s question. As he stowed the remnants of the ham back into the storage box, his eyes glinted with amusement. “I trust the palace meets your discerning standards?”
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Kinder paused, placing the fork gently on the plate. An earnest expression replaced his earlier playful demeanor as he met Aurelius’s gaze. “Can I ask you something?”
Aurelius, noting the change in the boy’s tone, responded, “Always.”
Kinder’s voice was a mere whisper, tinged with both curiosity and trepidation. “Are you… truly a vampire?”
In the dim glow of the kitchen, Aurelius gave a gentle nod, a warm but slightly forced smile curving his lips, aiming to assuage the child’s apprehension. The delicate dance of the torch flames reflected in his eyes, adding a hint of mystery to his demeanor.
“And Herius?” Kinder questioned, curiosity evident in his voice.
Taking a moment to find the right words, Aurelius finally responded, “Herius is a blend of both worlds - possessing the essence of a human and the allure of a vampire.”
Kinder’s eyebrows lifted in thought, before tentatively venturing another query, “Do you wield special abilities?”
“Abilities?” Aurelius echoed, feigning ignorance to draw out the child’s excitement.
With wide-eyed wonder, Kinder elaborated, “You know, like in the stories. Transforming into mist or… becoming a bat?”
A hearty laugh rumbled from Aurelius, echoing warmly in the room. “Oh, young one! I cannot morph into a bat, and even if such a power were mine, I’d think twice!” His voice carried a playful and exaggerated theatricality, drawing a picture of jest and camaraderie. The torchlight flickered, casting playful shadows that danced in tandem with their shared moment of mirth.
In the atmospheric shadows of the palace kitchen, Aurelius’s eyes shimmered with a playful light, reflecting the warm orange flames of the nearby torches. “Can you imagine? Me, as a bat? Darting about this regal palace, dodging lavish drapes and evading curious house cats?” The image was delightfully ludicrous, causing a soft, infectious laughter to tumble from his lips.
With an impish glint in his eyes, Kinder retorted, “But, of course, you’d be the most regal bat the skies have ever seen!”
Aurelius raised an eyebrow, feigning deep contemplation. “Is that flattery I hear?” He crouched slightly, bringing himself closer to Kinder’s eye level. The subtle scent of old wood and lingering spices wafted around them. “While I do have certain peculiarities, they’re not as whimsical as the tales suggest.”
Eyes wide with wonder, Kinder’s voice was but a whisper, “Such as?”
Pausing, Aurelius sifted through millennia of lore, seeking a way to distill the essence for a child’s understanding. “Our senses are… intensified. Everything feels more vivid, more alive. And while the golden rays of the sun aren’t our most cherished companions, they don’t send us up in smoky flames either.”
Kinder tilted his head, processing. “So, not quite like the tales?”
Aurelius’s nod was gentle but firm. “Stories have a way of embroidering truths, making them larger than life. Yet, in every legend, there lies a grain of truth buried beneath layers of myth.”
Kinder, entranced by the elder’s words, seemed to forget the world around him, including the plate of food before him. For a few precious moments, the expansive palace kitchen felt intimate, a cocoon spun from stories and understanding, illuminated by the soft, ethereal glow of flickering torches.
The air in the grand palace kitchen was heavy with anticipation, a gentle, nostalgic haze that wrapped around the senses. Faint candlelight flickered, casting soft golden glows on the majestic walls, while the residual aroma of freshly prepared ham danced gracefully with the timeless scent of stone and wood. Each tiny detail, from the echo of their footfalls to the shimmer of torchlight on polished tiles, painted a scene of otherworldly beauty.
Aurelius, with eyes that held the wisdom of ages, spoke up, his voice resonating like a comforting melody. “Stories, Kinder, they often blur the lines between fact and fiction, crafting a reality of their own.”
Kinder’s young eyes, full of wonder and innocence, met Aurelius’s gaze from beneath the folds of his blanket cape. “Do you ever wish,” he began, hesitating for just a moment, “that things were… simpler for you?”
A soft sigh escaped Aurelius’s lips, his face illuminated in the candlelight. “At times, my young friend, I do long for the ordinary. But ‘ordinary’ is a fluid concept, differing for each soul. Everyone holds a tapestry of tales, weaving their own version of the mundane.”
The distant chime of a palace clock echoed, its melodious ring indicating the advance of the night. With a warmth that defied his age, Aurelius tenderly tousled Kinder’s hair. “Though darkness may be an ally to some,” he murmured, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, “young explorers need their dreams.”
As Kinder’s lips curved into a soft smile, it was evident that this night, in the heart of a vast palace, a special bond had been woven between two souls separated by eons, yet connected by shared wonder and discovery.
In the dim glow of the palace kitchen, Kinder meticulously finished his meal, savoring the last bite of the succulent ham. The plate, now adorned with mere remnants of bread crumbs and stray bits of spring onion, mirrored his satisfaction. Pushing back his chair, he rose, a bit hesitant in the grandeur of his surroundings. “That was wonderful, thank you!” he exclaimed, his youthful grin lighting up the room, as he placed his dish on the nearby counter.
Aurelius, his tall figure standing in stark contrast to Kinder’s petite stature, gestured towards the exit. “Come now,” his voice warm yet authoritative, “it’s time for rest.” With a gentle push, the ornate doors of the kitchen swung open, revealing a vast hallway and the base of a grand spiral staircase, its ascending steps disappearing into the shadows above.
Kinder paused momentarily at the threshold, his gaze transfixed on the towering staircase. Its intricate balustrade seemed to twirl endlessly upward, an architectural marvel that might appear as an intimidating maze to a child.
Observing his hesitation, Aurelius extended a hand, encouraging the boy to embark on the ascent. “Daunting, isn’t it?” he remarked, his eyes filled with understanding.
The young boy gulped audibly, gripping his blanket cape even tighter, its fabric now a makeshift shield against his unease. “I’m not scared,” he asserted, the quiver in his voice betraying his words.
In the ambient glow of the palace, Aurelius looked down at Kinder, his eyes softening with a protective warmth. The flickering light from the nearby torches threw playful shadows, making the vast corridors seem alive and ever-changing, lending an ethereal quality to the moment.
“Let’s venture together, shall we?” Aurelius murmured, his voice imbued with a tenderness that echoed through the stone hallways. A gentle smile curved his lips as he extended his hand, palm open, waiting. For Kinder, that outstretched hand seemed like a beacon, a promise of safety in the vastness of the grand palace. With a small, hesitant step, Kinder placed his hand in Aurelius’s, the difference in their sizes palpable, as if a porcelain doll was entrusting its well-being to a guardian statue.
The duo began their ascent, each step echoing softly against the winding staircase. Ancient wood whispered secrets of ages past beneath their feet, adding a rhythmic creak to their journey. Lanterns lining the way bathed them in a golden hue, the soft fluttering of the flames dancing in tandem with the shadows. It felt as if the very walls of the palace were watching over them, guiding them with silent approval.
The scent of burning wax and aged timber enveloped them as they reached the second floor. Their footsteps faltered, and for a moment, the only sound was the gentle sigh of the palace at night. They shared this wordless journey, united in the quiet understanding that sometimes, the most profound connections are formed in silence.
Amidst the ornate tapestries and antique furnishings, Kinder’s room was a sanctuary, an oasis of warmth in the sprawling coldness of the palace. As the door swung open, the golden embrace of the fireplace’s light reached out, gently tugging at them. The fire crackled, its flames dancing like enchanted sprites, casting playful shadows that chased away the night’s chill. It was a stark contrast to the corridor’s cool ambiance, and the change was almost tangible, like crossing an invisible boundary into a realm of warmth and comfort.
Kinder paused on the threshold, the fire’s glow casting a luminous sheen on his face, which transformed from the vulnerable facade of a child to the determined countenance of a young warrior. When he spoke, his words carried the weight of battles fought and wisdom gained. “Thank you,” he intoned, a universe of gratitude condensed in those two words.
In this dance of roles, Aurelius played his part with grace. Bowing his head, he mirrored the posture of a loyal retainer, honoring a young lord’s gratitude. The cool exterior of his voice was but a mask, concealing a river of warmth underneath. “Have a nice rest, Kinder.” The formality of his words held an unspoken promise - a vow of unwavering guardianship.
Kinder’s response was silent but profound. His smile, illuminated by the flickering flames, spoke of trust, understanding, and a bond that words could barely encapsulate. Without another word, the door closed gently, sealing the night’s shared journey behind its wooden facade.
In the echoing vastness of the palace, the symphony of quietness played on. It was more than just silence; it was a weight, a tangible presence that settled around Aurelius like an old cloak. Each step he took seemed to reverberate through the hallways, magnifying his solitude. The marble beneath his boots felt cool, solid - unyielding to the passage of time.
The gentle sway of the trees outside, witnessed through grand windows, painted an almost serene image. Yet, their rustling whispered stories, tales of nights gone by and secrets the forest kept. Tonight, it seemed, the trees were murmuring about Ana, intertwining her name with every breeze that wafted through their leaves.
Ana. The thought of her brought a pang of unease. Her absence was like a void, an emptiness that seemed to tug at the edges of Aurelius’s consciousness. With every day that passed without word from her, the weight of worry grew heavier, pressing down on his heart.
Arriving at the foyer, the grandeur of the palace seemed to shrink for a moment, narrowing down to a singular empty frame. Bereft of its painting, the frame seemed almost to be in mourning, waiting for a memory to be filled in its wooden embrace. Much like Aurelius himself, it stood, a sentinel to memories lost and hope yet to come.
The palace was hushed, save for the soft whisper of the breeze rustling the drapes of the towering windows. Aurelius’ heartbeat resonated in his ears, echoing in the expanse of the hallway as he caught the gentle waft of a scent, both unfamiliar and captivating.
From the base of the grand staircase, a voice called out, smooth and aristocratic, “Sir Aurelius vi Eterna?”
On alert, Aurelius whirled around, ready to confront any lurking menace. Instead, he found himself arrested by the gaze of a striking figure, who looked more like a painting come to life than any mortal man.
The stranger, whose aristocratic bearing seemed as natural as his breathing, bore eyes of a deep, haunting red. Their intensity contrasted with his porcelain skin and the tendrils of ash-gray hair that framed his face, hinting at stories untold. There was an effortless elegance about him, a refined grace that seemed both alluring and unsettling.
Still, the elegance of his attire, the sheen of his polished cap, and the flair of his cravat did nothing to soothe Aurelius’s raised hackles. The silence was thick, broken only by the murmur of a distant nightingale.
Gathering himself, Aurelius’ voice rang out, clear and sharp as the moonlight filtering through the windows, “State your name and purpose.”
A soft chuckle emanated from the stranger, warm and dripping with charm. “Forgive my sudden intrusion. I am Sebastien Valmont.” His gaze was unyielding, as if challenging the dominance of the moment. “I bear a message from Lady Montblanc. She wishes an audience with you and your… companions.”
Aurelius felt his brow arch slightly. “And these companions of mine?”
The hint of a smirk played on Sebastien’s lips, “The humans and the dhampir sheltered under your wing.”
Aurelius’s instincts tingled, the weight of the man’s scrutiny palpable. This encounter promised to be far more than a simple exchange of pleasantries.
The grandeur of the palace seemed to amplify the weight of Aurelius’ words, making the space between them feel charged and thick with tension. The marble beneath Aurelius’ feet was cool and hard, a sensation that was both grounding and disquieting. “What interest does Lady Montblanc have with those I’ve taken under my protection?” he inquired, his voice a gentle rumble, echoing the caution and curiosity he felt.
Taking a tentative step downward, he paused midway, letting his gaze sweep over Sebastien. The moonlight streaming through the window etched an intriguing play of shadows and light across Sebastien’s face, revealing glimpses of his emotions. An unspoken question hung in the air: How had this stranger bypassed his guards and entered his sanctuary unnoticed?
Sebastien shifted, the soft rustle of his clothes breaking the silence. “I must apologize, Sir.” he replied with an apologetic half-smile, the warmth of his voice contrasting with the gravity of the situation, “I’m just the messenger. I do not know of Lady Montblanc’s intentions.”
Aurelius’ senses were alight, the subtle scent of Sebastien’s cologne mixed with the lingering aroma of burning wood from the fireplace, evoking memories of times when secrets were exchanged in hushed whispers, creating an atmosphere thick with enigma.
In the heart of the palace, bathed in silver moonlight, Aurelius began his descent, each step echoing the rhythm of his pulsing thoughts. The vast expanse of the foyer, usually a sign of grandeur, felt intimate tonight, as the chandeliers overhead spilled a ghostly radiance that danced between them.
The moment felt suspended in time. “It’s intriguing,” Aurelius began, voice dripping with a mix of admiration and suspicion, “that of all her vast entourage, Lady Montblanc would dispatch someone as captivating as you merely to deliver a message. Most never venture this deep within my walls unannounced. Yet, here you are.”
Sebastien, bathed in that same luminous glow, gave a sly, almost playful grin. “She’s always had a flair for the dramatic,” he quipped with a twinkle in his red eyes. “And as for my… quiet entrance? Let’s just say, the Lady does enjoy her little games.”
Now just a breath away, with only a few stairs separating them, the atmosphere between them was thick with tension and intrigue. The air seemed to hum with electricity. “A puzzle sent by another puzzle,” Aurelius observed, his voice barely above a whisper. “What does she truly want, Sebastien?”
Sebastien leaned in slightly, his voice a confidential murmur. “All in good time. But for now, expect a carriage in two days, precisely at noon. It’ll whisk you away to the very heart of her realm.”
Aurelius smirked, “Ah, traveling in style, are we? And once we arrive?”
The shadow of a smile danced on Sebastien’s lips, “She awaits your esteemed presence, Sir Aurelius. Lady Montblanc is eager to finally meet you.”
“Where is her realm?”
Moonlight painted the hall in shades of silver, adding to the mystery of the conversation. Sebastien’s eyes, always shimmering with secrets, twinkled with a new shade of mischief. “Lady Montblanc’s realm? Oh, she enjoys her games among those she deems… worthy. But the specifics? Forgive me, Sir Aurelius, that’s a secret I must keep.”
Aurelius’s expression remained guarded, though a flicker of curiosity shone in his eyes. “And Lady Anne? What became of her?”
Sebastien let out a soft sigh, his playful demeanor shifting to one of genuine sincerity. “Lady Anne of Montsombre is safe, albeit closer to Lady Montblanc’s grasp now.”
Taking in the information, Aurelius gave a curt nod. “Very well, Sebastien. Your message is received.”
Sebastien dipped his head in respect. “Until we meet again, in two days.” With that, he took a step back, his form blurring, then dissipating into a fine mist. Like tendrils of smoke, it wound its way between the floorboards and vanished through the grand doors, leaving Aurelius alone with his thoughts in the stillness of the moonlit chamber.