The room was bathed in the soft glow of the moon, casting a silver hue over Ingrid's quarters. Shadows danced on the walls as she moved gracefully through the dimly lit space. The hour had long surpassed midnight, and an air of mystery hung in the quietude.
Ingrid, dressed in a long-sleeved silk nightgown that gracefully brushed the floor, made her way toward the balcony with deliberate steps. The fabric whispered as she moved, a delicate symphony that harmonized with the nocturnal serenity. The thick red curtains adorned with intricate patterns swayed slightly as Ingrid approached, and she gently parted them.
A chilly breeze greeted her as she opened the balcony door, the cold wind caressing her like a ghostly whisper. The night air was crisp, carrying the fragrance of the palace gardens and the distant scent of pine trees.
Ingrid stood on the balcony, her silhouette outlined by the silvery moonlight, a serene figure in the quietude of the night.
