Everhart Manor, Outside the Guest Room
The corridors were still.
Not just quiet—but unnervingly still.
Lilith stood guard just outside the room where the others rested.
She leaned against the wall, spear already unsummoned but ready at a moment's notice, eyes sharpened like blades as they scanned every crevice, every flickering shadow the dim chandeliers cast on the walls.
The manor was far too silent for her liking.
It had been hours since Art and Zyon left. Hours since they'd gone off after suspecting something was wrong in the town.
The longer time stretched, the heavier the silence became. The kind that didn't feel natural.
Not even the servants had passed by in the last hour—not a whisper, not a footstep. Not even the rustle of wind against glass. Just dead air.
A silence that grew teeth.
'Something's wrong…' Lilith's hand unconsciously brushed against the edge of her cloak as she took another sweeping glance down the corridor.
