The palace of Peduviel woke slowly.
Not with music this time or laughter.
The lanterns that had burned through the night were being extinguished one by one. Gold banners still hung from the arches, but without the glow of celebration, they seemed softer now - ornamental rather than radiant.
Servants moved through the courtyards in quiet efficiency, gathering empty cups, folding silks, sweeping away petals that had once been thrown in joy.
The air felt… settled.
As though the city itself understood something had ended.
Aya stood near the open window of her chambers, already dressed in traveling clothes - silver and blue layered more simply than the garments of court, her cloak draped loosely over her shoulders.
Bason sat close to her side.
Closer than usual.
The great hound had not strayed far from her since dawn, his presence a constant weight against the stillness of the room. His ears flicked at every distant sound, his attention sharper than it had been the night before.
