Night returned to the Dravik estate not as a period of rest, but as a suffocating, heavy shroud. The transition from the deceptive sunshine of the afternoon to the ink-black silence of the evening felt like a door slamming shut on Amara's sanity.
She had spent the last several hours in the grand library, the space so large and filled with ancient knowledge that it usually made her feel small and safe. Tonight, however, the thousands of leather-bound spines felt like tombstone markers. No one had come to check on her except Felira, who appeared at sunset to place a tray of tea and untouched dinner on a side table before vanishing back into the shadows with a quiet, "Rest well, Miss Hayes."
