Seraphielle moved quickly through the corridors of Valkoron, her steps firm and purposeful, the sound of distant celebration still echoing faintly behind her like a world she no longer belonged to in that moment.
The banquet hall she had just left felt increasingly irrelevant with every step she took, as though the laughter, the music, and the courtly chatter were all drifting further into something fragile and distant, something she could no longer afford to care about.
Yet even in her haste, she did not lose control of her bearing.
Servants passing through the halls bowed respectfully as she approached, and she acknowledged them only with the slightest inclination of her head, her expression composed enough to pass as calm to any casual observer.
Still, beneath that outward stillness, there was a tightening tension coiling deeper with each passing moment, something sharp and restless that refused to settle.
