The great doors of the Leonidus mansion sighed open with a sound like breath escaping from an ancient beast.
The wind followed Sabrina inside, carrying with it the scent of wet stone and rain-slicked iron.
Her boots left faint prints across the marble floor, each step whispering a story of struggle, of something undone.
The maids were the first to see her — and the first to fall silent. They moved toward her like shadows trained to serve, their eyes flicking over her torn sleeves, the loose buttons, the faint smear of earth on her cheek.
One of them reached to take her hood, fingers trembling before she caught herself. They did not ask questions; their silence was the etiquette of the noble house, a silence that spoke of both discipline and fear.
Sabrina's breath came shallowly. The mansion was warm, scented faintly of wine and lilac oil, but she felt cold under her skin.
