The palace courtyard stretched wide and silent under the night sky, its flagstones cool beneath Gon's boots as he slipped out from the torchlit halls.
Stars burned sharp overhead, pinpricks of light against the vast black, casting faint glimmers across the stone walls that boxed the space.
From somewhere beyond, the palace's late-night clamor drifted—a low rumble of voices, clinking goblets, and the occasional burst of laughter—but here, the air hung still, heavy with the scent of damp earth and fading jasmine.
Gon's chest felt tight, restless, his skin still warm with the memory of Lena's touch hours before.
Her soft gasps, the way her fingers had curled against him—it lingered, a quiet fire in his blood.
But it wasn't enough to quiet the pull that had drawn him out here, into the dark.
It was Zara now, her sharp tongue and fiercer spark, that flickered in his mind, an itch he couldn't scratch away.
