The cold night air enveloped the old cottage, the atmosphere was tense with the sound of the wind blowing softly, accompanying the silence of the dark night.
There was no more rain, only the remnants of dew still left on the foggy window glass.
Inside the room that was only lit by candlelight, Claire was still sitting in her chair. Her breathing sounded heavy, and her eyes continued to be fixed on the old book on the table. The wavering candlelight strengthened the tension that hung in the air.
Door opening sound suddenly shattered the silence.
"Ethan?" Claire jumped to her feet, the candle almost falling from her hand.
Ethan's figure emerged from the darkness. His robe was tattered and his arm was badly injured.
Blood dripped slowly, staining the wooden floor. The dim candlelight made his face look paler than usual, but his eyes were full of anxiety and alertness.
