Agnos smirked behind us. "Careful, Carl. The gods might take offense to your critique of their architecture. You don't want to end up as a cautionary tale for mortals."
I groaned but said nothing as we approached the Moon Wing. The double doors—etched with lunar phases and shimmering like liquid silver—swung open with a low, resonant creak.
A soft, cool light spilled out, bathing us in a glow that made me feel weightless, as if gravity had temporarily forgotten its job, revealing a stoic figure waiting just inside.
The butler, clad in flowing robes of deep blue and silver, looked like he had stepped out of a celestial tapestry. A crescent moon crest adorned his forehead, and his every movement was deliberate, exuding an air of quiet authority.
