The castle's wall clock chimed faintly, its sound echoing softly through the stone corridors. Outside, the night deepened. Winter winds whispered weakly against the glass, carrying snowflakes that clung for a moment before melting away. In Sylvia's chamber, the enchanted torches still burned, their glow soft and steady, illuminating a desk cluttered with papers, pens, and a teacup long gone cold.
At last, Sylvia stopped writing. She placed her pen atop the final stack of documents with a slow motion, then leaned back against the large chair. The tension in her shoulders eased, and she stretched her arms high above her head, exhaling with relief.
"Phew…" she murmured, almost like a sigh of satisfaction. "Finally… done."
The faint red light in her eyes dimmed slightly, a sign of weariness pressing against her undead body even though, technically, she never needed sleep. But the remnants of her humanity still demanded rest.
