The old wing of the Arven mansion was quieter than the rest of the house. Not because it was empty, but because even the servants seemed to avoid making noise there. The windows were tall, covered by heavy curtains that let in little light, and the corridor carried that smell of waxed wood, old dust, and expensive perfume that clung to places occupied by people who liked to control even the air around them.
Morgana walked ahead, but not quickly. Ingrivid followed two steps before her, sword drawn, while Elizabeth and Aria came just behind. None of the three commented when Morgana stopped before a double door at the end of the corridor. The dark wood was intact, polished, with golden details along the edges. The lock had a small crest of House Arven, but distorted by private symbols the former Duchess had ordered engraved over it, as if even her husband's house needed to pass through her seal in order to exist.
