As Damien and Sara moved past the grand arrival hall, a pair of assistant mages in black and silver robes approached them.
"You'll be shown to your quarters now," one of them said—a young man with delicate features and a voice smooth as flowing ink. His eyes lingered on Damien a little longer than necessary, something unreadable flickering in them before he turned and began walking.
They followed him through a side corridor, where the architecture shifted subtly with each step. The gleaming white marble gave way to obsidian tiles inlaid with starlight, as though they were walking across a night sky. Light filtered in through curved windows framed in gold and glass, casting long, soft shadows on the corridor walls. Every footstep echoed gently, muted by some unseen enchantment.
The assistant said nothing as they walked, and the silence wasn't uncomfortable—it was reverent. The kind of silence reserved for libraries, temples, and ancient places where power had lingered too long.
