Peace, Interrupted
Five minutes before the explosion.
The Moonwalker Estate was calm—quiet, full of that late-night warmth that only settles in when laughter lingers longer than it should and no one wants to say goodnight.
Outside, Silver City slept under a velvet night sky, and inside the estate, inside the grand dining hall, everything glowed. The chandeliers hummed with soft golden light, casting halos over the room like the whole place was caught in a dream. The long table still bore the remains of a feast. Plates pushed back, goblets half-full and forgotten. Fruit bowls sat like centerpieces of abundance no one wanted to disturb. The air clung with roasted meat, fresh herbs, and the last hints of sweet wine—scent layered over scent, warm and full and so very alive. Laughter hung in the walls. Not loud. Just... there. Soft and real and breathing.
