As the chaos erupted within the manor, Riley felt a thrill rush through him, but he couldn't afford to linger. The cries of the rioters, now echoing inside the once-quiet halls, created the perfect distraction. With each shattering window and scream, he slipped away, the illusions surrounding him weaving seamlessly with the disorder.
His heart raced, not from fear but from exhilaration as he maneuvered through the frantic servants and guards trying to secure the house. The halls, usually a sanctuary of elegance, were now a cacophony of panic.
He ducked into shadows, the darkness clinging to him like a second skin, erasing all traces of his presence. If the toymaker was truly after him, this chaos would serve as his best shield, obscuring him in a storm of confusion.
