Sharon sat within the arcane carriage, her gaze shifting periodically between the various passengers and the figure of Draven, who sat across from her, seemingly lost in the pages of an old book. There was something almost maddening about the calm that seemed to surround him—it was as if the entire world could be set ablaze, and Draven would continue reading, unaffected by the flames. The same composed indifference that had made him infamous across the kingdom now permeated the enclosed space of the carriage.