Friends in Need

The ornate tapestries of Nevera’s chambers seemed to ripple with an unnatural energy, the woven scenes of past triumphs now feeling like distant echoes against the encroaching storm. Outside, the predictable rhythm of the Royal Academy had dissolved into a cacophony of hushed whispers and hurried footsteps. The air itself felt heavy, thick with an unspoken dread that clung to the stone walls like moss. Nevera traced the intricate patterns on her silken robe, her mind a tempest of unanswered questions and the chilling echo of her father’s evasions.

A soft knock, barely audible above the nervous rustling of the corridors, broke the silence. “Nevera?” It was Elara’s voice, laced with a concern that always managed to cut through Nevera’s anxieties.

Nevera pushed herself away from the window, her reflection in the polished obsidian a pale stranger. “Come in, Elara.”