Dark Intentions

The air in Nightfall Keep was thick with silence, the kind that settled in the depths of the night, pressing against the blackened stone walls like an unspoken weight. The torches along the corridors burned lower now, casting flickering shadows that stretched and danced against the cold floors.

Arden Shadowborne sat alone in his chambers, one leg stretched out, the other bent at the knee, his arms resting lazily over the armrests of the high-backed chair positioned near the single window. The view beyond was the same as always—Tenebralis shrouded in its eternal twilight, the city's spires reaching for a sky that had long since abandoned the warmth of the sun.

It should have been a moment of peace, a quiet before whatever was to come. Instead, it felt like a waiting game, a trap with no visible teeth, a game of politics he had no wish to play but had already been thrust into.