The main courtyard of the mansion was busier than usual that morning, not from chaos or urgency, but from a silent organization that formed whenever something important was about to happen. The sky remained clear, open, almost inviting, and the light wind that swept through the space carried with it that unmistakable feeling of departure. Strax stood in the center, his posture firm but not rigid, observing each of the figures before him with an attention he rarely displayed so openly.
