The evening air pressed against them as they moved down the winding streets, the warmth of the estate fading behind them.
Silvermere's lower districts were alive, even at this hour—vendors packing away their stalls, lamplighters moving along the cobbled paths, their flames flickering against damp stone.
But beneath the movement, there was something else.
A stillness.
An unspoken weight pressing down on the air, thick as the mist curling through the alleyways.
Cassian exhaled, rubbing his hands together. "You ever notice how places where people disappear always feel like places where people disappear?"
Luneth scanned the streets ahead. "It's the silence."
'It is a little creepy.'
Lindarion barely spared them a glance. His eyes were fixed forward, tracking their path through the descending streets. The parchment in his grip remained sealed, but the words within were already etched into his mind.
