The air in Emberly Obsidian's study was still thick with tension from the assassination attempt just days before. The cold, frosty remnants of her magic still clung to the room like a thin veil, the reminders of that deadly encounter evident in the sharp chill that never quite dissipated.
She sat at her desk, calmly reviewing documents, her golden eyes focused, yet somewhere deep within, the storm of recent events brewed.
And she missed the presence of her son...
Suddenly, a shadow shifted in the corner of the room, breaking the stillness.
Song crept forward, his presence as silent as death. Even though Song was always around, moving through the shadows of her estate, this time felt different—urgent.
"Mistress," Song whispered, his voice a low, reverent hum as he materialized from the darkness.
Emberly glanced up, her icy demeanor unwavering despite the growing tension. "Speak, Song."
