[On the Way to the Malika's Private Courtyard—The Hallway—Later]
The hallway stretched long and narrow like a thought that refused to end. Lanterns burned low within carved alcoves, their light dimmed by perfumed glass.
Gold-lined walls reflected that glow in fractured echoes, turning the passage into something almost unreal—a place where truth could bend…and loyalties could quietly break.
At its center walked Zeramet; his steps were steady and measured. Each one echoing with authority that did not need witness to exist.
Behind him, a step slower, walked Arkhazunn, but something was wrong. He was silent, with no commentary, no wit, and no careless remarks thrown into the air just to hear them land.
Silence did not belong to him, and Zeramet noticed; he did not turn.
"You have something to say," Zeramet said at last, his voice cutting clean through the corridor. "Open your mouth… and speak it."
