It wasn't long before Istrabell saw the outline of a familiar manor. The journey here seemingly passing by as a blur, with no one baring witness to the mark in history that she had left. She would return to her life as a Lady of the House.
And life would return to normal....atleast that what she tried to tell herself, but deep down she knew nothing would ever be the same again.
Built to resemble ice and silver, the manor shimmered in the light of the waning nighg like something out of a fantasy world.
It held a solemnity that spoke of the ancient struggles of those who carried the weight of power with depth and sanctity.
It was neither taller nor grander than other buildings in the province—it lacked the flamboyant splendor of noble castles, or what one would simply expect from the rulers of a province.
This manor had been constructed with humility and subtlety, the kind only possessed by those whose foundations and confidence in their authority could not be shaken.
