The tower loomed above the rear of the Blackthorn mansion, its stone walls weathered with centuries of cold winds. Nerine had wandered without thinking, her feet carrying her across the courtyard, away from the suffocating corridors of the house. The tower seemed to call to her, its spiral staircase a winding invitation.
She climbed, each step echoing softly in the silence. By the time she reached the top, her breath was light but steady. And then—
The view stole it entirely.
From here, the world stretched vast and endless. The sprawl of Blackthorn's grounds was alive beneath the dark sky, shadows lengthening over the gardens, the forest pressing at the edges of the estate. The sky itself blazed with fire, a clash of crimson and molten gold, the air humming with the promise of night.
