The silence in the guest chamber was heavy, not with peace, but with the weight of invisible barriers. Klaus sat on the edge of the bed, his eyes closed, listening to the faint hum of the suppression runes etched into the doorframe. They were designed to keep him contained, a magical cage woven by the palace's finest mages. To anyone else, the room was a prison. To Klaus, it was just a quiet space where the air felt slightly thicker than usual.
He didn't need to see the runes to know they were there. He could feel the texture of the magic against his skin, a prickling sensation like static electricity before a storm.
Then, he heard it.
It wasn't a footstep. It was the shift in breathing on the other side of the thick oak door. Someone was standing there, hesitating. The person's heart rate was elevated, thumping against their ribs with a rhythm that betrayed nervousness. They were debating whether to turn the key or run away.
