Asher stepped away from the main hall, quietly making his way up the curved staircase that led to the eastern wing of the mansion—his wing. His footsteps slowed as he reached the end of the corridor, stopping before the familiar double doors of his room.
He placed a hand on the old brass handle, hesitating for just a breath.
Then, slowly, he opened the door.
It was exactly as he remembered.
The room was large, with high ceilings and tall windows that opened to a view of the floating gardens beyond. The walls were deep onyx and gold, his family's colors, with shelves still filled with relics from his younger years—soul crystals, training manuals, and trinkets from old expeditions. His bed, a wide silverwood frame draped in dark crimson sheets, still sat in the center, untouched for years but carefully maintained.
