A Quiet Return

With the moon high above and the streets bathed in soft silver light, Luke and Ilyrana set out toward the castle. The air was cool, carrying the distant hum of crickets and the occasional flicker of torchlight from the guards stationed at various corners of Nateron.

Luke walked steadily, his hands in his pockets, dressed in simple clothes instead of his usual mage's robe. He had left it behind at the cathedral—partly because he didn't want to attract unnecessary attention, but mostly because he trusted this place. Nateron was home. It felt different now, knowing that an attack had shaken it not long ago, but it was still standing. That was all that mattered.

Ilyrana walked beside him, her cloak pulled over her head, though she was more relaxed than usual.

"You know," she murmured, breaking the silence between them, "I never imagined you'd be the kind of man to sneak into a castle."

"It's not sneaking if the king already knows I'm coming," Luke smirked.