Florian's breath was shallow, the weight of unease pressing against his chest like an iron grip. The knock at the door felt heavier than it should have, reverberating through his bones with something close to dread.
"Your Majesty, what do we do?" Florian whispered, his voice tight with urgency. His fingers curled into the fabric of his cloak, as if steadying himself. His gaze darted toward Heinz, who stood eerily still, only his golden eyes flickering toward the door.
For a moment, Heinz didn't answer. Then, without a shift in his tone, he responded loud enough to be heard, "Yes, we are awake. Is there a problem?"
He stepped forward, his movements unhurried but deliberate, heading toward the door. Florian's pulse quickened.
Heinz turned slightly, glancing over his shoulder, and in a low whisper, he said, "Stay there."
