đ.đ: Changing tables
đhe sun had long dipped beneath the horizon, spilling gold across the sky before retreating entirely.
Caelondria's Royal Palace now glowed with warm lamplight, flickering against polished marble and velvet-lined halls. A hush had fallen over the castle as the hour grew late, but for one young lady, the night was far from over.
Elysia walked in quiet step beside Sir Caldre, his armor clinking faintly as he escorted her down the corridor.
The gentle scent of roasted meats and herbs drifted down the hallway. Ah, yes. Thank heavens for mortal noses and the scent-related benefits that came with them.
The palace always felt different at night. The ambience was softer. Slower. As if the very walls exhaled after a long day of royal theatrics, slipping into something quieter, more honest. Shadows no longer loomed as threats, but as gentle guardians of stillness.
