The night didn't rest, though.
In another corner of the city, shadows folded like wings as Kiara slipped through them, the orb clutched tight against her chest, its faint glow pulsing in time with her racing heart.
Her boots were silent on the cobblestones, her breath uneven, her eyes wet but burning with a fierce, unyielding purpose.
She moved like a storm, swift and unstoppable, her grief sharpening into something colder, harder.
She reached Silvia's home, a modest house tucked away in a quiet alley, its windows dark except for the faint flicker of candlelight.
With one sharp thrust of her hand, the door creaked open, the hinges groaning in protest.
The cozy interior smelled of tea and parchment, shelves lined with books casting long shadows in the dim glow of scattered candles.
Silvia rose from her seat, startled, a book slipping from her hands to the floor with a soft thud.
