Guest in her Own Home

The hallways felt quieter tonight.

Which was strange, considering just an hour ago, it had been full of people questioning, staring, suspecting, and judging me. Now, with the night settling over the grand estate, the marble floors echoed softly under our footsteps, and everything seemed... still.

Lyria walked beside me silently, her steps light and graceful, as if she were gliding.

She always moved like that—deliberate, controlled. Poised.

But now that I noticed, there was something else there too.

A heaviness. Like her shoulders carried something invisible, something far too old for a girl like her.

I paused at the door to one of the finest guest rooms. The staff had prepared it quickly after all the chaos, making sure the bed linens were perfect, the fireplace crackling, and not a single speck of dust in sight. Everything pristine, everything polished.