Argider was certain she hadn't heard a thing. Not a scuff of boots, not the creak of hinges, not even the faint whisper of breath behind her. The corridor outside Fialova's room had been empty or so she thought. Perhaps it was her training, that knightly instinct to be something unnoticed, but as she stepped inside, something prickled at the edge of her awareness.
Nothing seemed out of place, not at first glance. The room was still, the shadows deepening with the waning light.
Her fingers tightened around the trinket in her hand—a strange little thing she couldn't explain holding. Yet Fialova's gaze, sharp and unwavering, was fixed on it like it might shatter the world.
"F-Fialova, where have you been?" Argider's voice wavered as she slipped the trinket into the folds of her robe. She stepped closer, her movements cautious. "Everyone's been looking for you."
