Flashback
The night had been quiet, too quiet. A sharp chill floated in the air, not from the snow outside, but from something else—something wrong. The stillness pressed on the walls like a held breath. Boris had just arrived at the palace at Svetlana from the capital. He dismounted quickly, brushing the snow off his coat as he noticed something odd. Only one guard stood by the gate. The wind howled softly behind him, as if trying to warn him.
His steps slowed as he walked over. "Where is the second guard?" he asked, his voice calm but alert, though his fingers twitched slightly near the hilt of his sword.
The guard straightened, caught off guard by the question. "I... I don't know, sir. He was here just minutes ago. He left suddenly." The guard's eyes shifted nervously, betraying his unease.
That was all Boris needed to hear. Something wasn't right. The air felt wrong—too still, too quiet, as if the palace itself was holding its breath.
