Lunethra had never imagined that at the age of eight hundred, she would find peace within a black castle surrounded by eternal mist.
The Terrace of Equilibrium had become her favorite sanctuary. It wasn't for the view—the Forest of Lamentation remained a bleak expanse, its blackened trees looming like the skeletal remains of giants. It wasn't for the climate—the air here was perpetually damp and cold, even with the Orchid-Ether system filtering the toxins from the fog. It was because here, she could be alone. Here, she could think.
She sat on a stone bench Dayat had manifested a few days ago—a small gift born of his unease at seeing Lunethra standing whenever she sought to enjoy the view. The bench was simple: a slab of gray stone with a low backrest. Yet, Lunethra cherished it. She had even brought a small cushion from her room to make it more comfortable.
