By the time the last rays of sun slipped below the velvet horizon, the mansion had shifted into its nighttime rhythm. Crystal orbs hanging from the ceilings hummed to life, casting a soft golden glow across the lounge room where all thirty now gathered. The couches and floor cushions formed a loose circle, and in its center sat Alaric, comfortably nestled into one of the deeper chairs.
The air was warm with conversation. Laughter echoed freely. Not from nervousness, but genuine amusement.
"I still can't believe it,"
whispered Kaela to Mara,
"he actually lost that sparring match with Mistress Cellione?"
"To be fair, she cheated,"
Cellione said with a smirk,
"used her fire to heat the floor. His boots practically melted."
"She calls it strategy,"
Serineth added, blinking slowly,
"I call it evil."
"Says the shadow witch,"
Alaric chimed in.
"I accept the title proudly."
A round of laughter followed.
