Auralyne was standing in the courtyard, staring at the moon—unmoving, quiet, as though waiting for something written in the stars. The mansion behind her lay cloaked in silence and shadow. Not a single lamp glowed.
Not a single hallway flickered with life. Unlike other nights, there was no trace of warmth, of lingering laughter, of bustling footsteps. Even the girls were fast asleep—an unnatural, almost imposed slumber. It was as if something had laid a heavy hand over the household, demanding stillness.
But Auralyne waited.
Her eyes stayed on the moon, serene and alert.
Then—fwip—three figures landed beside her, their descent silent, masked only by a breath of displaced air. They had dropped to her right. Cloaked in black, eyes glinting faintly, they looked at each other, startled.
They had not expected anyone to be here.
But they composed themselves quickly. Professionalism reasserted its hold.
