Moonlit Strings
Snow drifted lazily from the night sky, the crescent moon hanging like a sliver of silver above the Greenhold Academy's master residence. The air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of winter pines and the distant echo of snow crunching beneath footsteps.
A soft, resonant melody cut through the silence. It was the sound of a guitar, each note delicate, pure, and serene. The music seemed to float, bending the cold night into something almost tangible.
Kai Dawnsworn was drawn to the sound. He left the study where he had been poring over spell scrolls and walked toward the main hall, the snow underfoot muffling his steps. There, bathed in the pale moonlight, Michael Swift plucked at the strings of his guitar, his posture relaxed, his every movement graceful.
