The forest around the carriage was quiet now, eerily so. The mist had thinned to a languid drift, and moonlight filtered between the skeletal branches like silver gauze. Ludwig and his companions continued along the broken path, the wheels of the carriage occasionally creaking over uneven roots or scattering loose stones. Inside, the air was heavy with thought.
The interior spatial magic of the carriage still flickered faintly, like a dying hearth trying to stay lit. Every so often, the lighting would blink, an unnatural dimming, followed by a brief hum of correction. But it held, and the vehicle moved forward without major disruption.
Timur sat across from Ludwig, arms folded, head tilted in contemplation. His brows were furrowed, not with anger, but something deeper, worry, perhaps. Or calculation.
