The city did not sleep that night. Fear moved through every street like a quiet storm. Doors stayed shut. Windows locked. Lamps burned low behind curtains and people whispered to each other in the dark about what they had seen and what it meant.
The Prince had drawn blood inside the palace. The King had not stopped him. Something had shifted and nobody knew yet which direction it would fall. Parents kept their children inside.
Shops closed before they needed to. Even the guards spoke softly among themselves as though volume itself had become dangerous. By the time Alaric and Silas returned to the estate the night felt heavy and pressing. The gates opened without a word.
Servants lowered their heads as they passed. Guards looked away. Nobody spoke. Nobody dared.
Silas noticed the fear. The tension in the house. But that was not what held his attention. It was Alaric.
