The morning light filtered through the heavy velvet drapes of the imperial study, falling upon a scene of absolute ruin.
Scattered parchments, overturned inkwells, and the shattered pieces of a crystal vase littered the rug.
The maids moved through the wreckage with quiet, practiced efficiency, gathering the torn papers and lifting the heavy oak desk back onto its legs.
Aldric directed them with silent gestures, his face composed, hiding the exhaustion that weighed down his bones.
Soren sat quietly in a high-backed armchair by the frosted window, watching the floor with a dull, unblinking gaze.
As one of the maids swept a cluster of broken ceramic debris near the hearth, a small glint of metal caught the weak morning light.
A silver pendant lay half-buried beneath a fold of scattered parchment, its delicate chain tangled in the nap of the rug.
Soren's eyes locked onto it.
