Gon's boots scuffed the marble as he turned down another corridor, narrower than the last, the torchlight dimming into a soft, amber haze.
The restlessness still coiled tight in his chest, Mira's words looping like a taunt he couldn't shake.
He needed something, air, quiet, anything to dull the edge, and then he saw her.
Lena stood in a shallow alcove, framed by a tall, arched window that spilled late afternoon light across her silhouette.
She was alone, a rare sight in a palace crawling with mages who clung to their packs like wolves.
Her stillness caught him off guard, a stark contrast to the chaos he'd just left behind.
He knew how this would end anyway, he would be bending her over in his room.
Still, he felt the desire to draw this out for some reason.
She leaned against the stone sill, one hand resting lightly on the edge, her gaze fixed on the gardens beyond.
