The Lord Who Waited Beneath the Moon
The sound of footsteps fell softly against the marble path, muffled by the night breeze that drifted through the garden. Julia walked ahead, her composure precise and unhurried, the folds of her uniform moving like ink strokes over the moonlit stone. Behind her, Victor and Sasha followed without a word. The faint rustle of leaves above, the chirp of hidden crickets, and the echo of distant music from the banquet were the only sounds that dared to fill the silence between them.
Sasha's expression was calm, but her eyes flickered from time to time toward Victor—searching, measuring, perhaps wondering what kind of conversation awaited them at the end of this path. Victor walked beside her, hands clasped behind his back, his face unreadable. The moonlight skimmed his features, cold and sharp, yet his mind stirred restlessly beneath that calm.
