Ian looked to the stained glass again—the flaming eye of the Hollow Flame crest watching like some old god.
"Then we bleed, but we've gotten quite good at that too."
Eli nodded once, then turned and walked into the dimming hall beyond.
Ian stayed behind.
Alone, as always.
As outside, dusk withered into night, and war's shadow grew tall enough to swallow cities.
And perhaps it would.
———
The chamber smelled of lavender and old ash.
It was dimly lit—by design.
Almost no windows, no open fire. Just the low hum of arcane sconces along the curved stone walls, offering soft violet light across the dark stone and high-backed chairs. It was a place built for secrecy, not comfort. A shelter for whispers, or ghosts.
Ian stepped through and closed the door behind him.
Velrosa stood at the far end of the room, her back to him, fingers resting lightly on the edge of a blackwood table.
