The aftermath of the skirmish left an unsettling atmosphere hanging over Everlight. As Sir Michael and I made our way back to the inn, the streets seemed quieter, the usual hustle and bustle dampened by the memory of violence. I couldn't shake the image of Roland's lifeless body from my mind, nor could I shake the chilling realization that we were about to be roped into the Order at last.
Inside the inn, we were met with curious glances from nearly everyone inside. News of the confrontation at the city gate had spread like wildfire, and whispers followed us as we made our way to our room. Sir Michael seemed unfazed by the attention; his focus was solely on our next course of action.
"We need to prepare for tomorrow," he said, his voice low and grave as he closed the door behind us. "I have no idea why Fiona changed her mind."
"Maybe she just pitied us and decided to help?"
