The midnight sky over the imperial gardens hung low and heavy, a thick blanket of starless ink that seemed to absorb every breath of wind.
He rewrapped the silk with meticulous care, tucking the small bundle securely inside the inner pocket of his coat, right against his heart. Rising to his feet, Silver dissolved into the gloom, traversing the silent, torch-lit corridors of the palace like an unregistered ghost, avoiding every patrol until he reached the heavy mahogany door of his private quarters.
Inside his chamber, the air was cold, dense, and thick with the bitter scent of dried herbs, old parchment, and lingering chaos magic.
Silver locked the heavy door behind him, turning the brass key twice until the deadbolt clicked into place. He crossed the dimly lit room, walking past dusty bookshelves and scattered scrolls toward his desk. He laid the silk handkerchief flat on the dark wood, carefully unfolding it to expose the tiny, motionless girl once more.
