Dawn lay like a sheer veil over the wooden house on the cliff's edge, while the mountains still slept.
Only the wind chimes beneath the eaves stirred in the mountain breeze, ringing out a clear, delicate melody.
One-Eye's question, "Who's there?" instantly shattered the tranquility.
Puppet Sevier immediately followed One-Eye's gaze, looking toward the shadow beyond the courtyard gate.
The brass winding key on her back gave a slight jerk. With a click, it paused for half a beat, and her gaze pierced the dimness like a cold blade.
The morning breeze swept over the patterns in the dry garden. The spirit fire inside the stone lantern suddenly dimmed for a moment.
The shadow slowly parted as though pushed aside by an invisible hand, and a slender figure strolled out of the void.
His pale golden hair shimmered like honey in the morning light, and the low ponytail at the back of his head was perfectly neat.
The curved beak of the bird mask on his face gleamed with a deathly white, porcelain sheen.
Beneath his ornate, dark formal coat, a red-and-black cape fluttered without a breeze, like the folded wing membrane of some enormous bat.
"Oh, my. I didn't expect you to notice me after all, Miss One-Eye. You're as sharp as ever."
The Playwright bowed slightly. Light slowly swirled in his pale golden eyes, like molten gold.
A black raven perched on his shoulder, tilting its head. Its beadlike eyes reflected the morning light in the courtyard.
Puppet Sevier gently shielded One-Eye behind her and asked coldly,
"Why are you here? I don't remember inviting you."
The Playwright spread his white-gloved hands, his fingertips tracing an invisible silver arc through the air.
"Please don't be angry, madam. We were colleagues, after all."
"I happened to pass by this