The night was eerily silent, save for the faint sound of crying that echoed through the darkened corridors of the estate.
Athena's eyes fluttered open, her heart pounding against her ribs. She sat up in bed, her senses sharpening in the stillness.
Beside her, Mors remained motionless, his breathing slow and even. She reached out and shook his arm gently.
"Mors," she whispered. "Wake up."
But he didn't stir. His body was warm, his pulse steady, yet there was an unnatural stillness to him.
Athena's brows furrowed. Something was wrong. The air felt heavier, as if the mansion itself was holding its breath.
The soft, sorrowful cries filled the air again.
Athena stiffened. It was coming from above.
Without hesitation, she climbed out of bed, grabbing a dark cloak from the chair to conceal herself.
The mansion was quiet, but that didn't mean it was empty. She couldn't risk alerting anyone, not even the guards Mors trusted.
