The door closed softly behind them, the click of the latch echoing with finality that felt almost ceremonial.
Outside, the afternoon had settled into a pleasant, golden calm. The sky above the Human Kingdom stretched wide and blue, scattered with slow-moving clouds that carried no omen, no pressure, just weather.
The street in front of the Neverwinter residence hummed with gentle life: distant carriage wheels on stone, vendors calling out daily specials, the low murmur of people going about lives that did not revolve around power struggles or ancient wars.
Gwen stepped out first, still gripping Albedo's hand, her fingers warm and small in his own.
She took one look around, inhaled deeply, and smiled so brightly it almost hurt to see.
"It smells like bread," she announced with authority.
"A new baker opened three streets down," Albedo said as he walked alongside her.
Her eyes widened as she heard that, licking her lips, "We're getting some."
