The night was as black as ink, moonlight spilling over the castle rooftops of Amnath City, leaving mottled patches of silver.
The lord's residence was silent at this hour, with only the occasional soft cry of night birds drifting in from afar.
Just then, a slender figure draped in a Shadow Cloak silently arrived outside Ang's door. A faint magical ripple swept by without a sound, and the door quietly opened. The figure slipped through the gap like a shadow in the night.
She stepped lightly into the room. Moonlight filtered through a gap in the curtains, outlining Ang's form on the bed.
He lay there quietly, his brow relaxed and his breathing steady. The figure silently approached, her trembling fingertips reaching toward him.
But before she could touch him, Ang's eyes flew open. He seized her wrist in a backhanded grip, moving with the agility of a panther as a cold glint flashed through his eyes.
The other party let out a soft cry, her voice gentle and familiar. Ang paused briefly, then asked in a low voice:
"Natiya?"
In the darkness, that familiar scent and her soft hum of acknowledgment instantly confirmed her identity.
The next moment, Natiya offered no explanation. She merely gently freed herself from his grip, lifted the covers, and slipped inside.
"You..." Ang was slightly surprised, but he did not press her further.
He felt Natiya's warmth against him, along with her lingering fragrance, like moonlight deep within a forest. There was no longer any barrier between them. Her gaze was gentle and open, like a clear spring in the woods—quiet yet resolute.
With a wave of his hand, Ang silently activated a soundproofing magic array, blocking out every sound.
He gazed at Natiya and understood her feelings—on the night before their parting, she