Inside a dim corridor, lit only by flickering candles lining the stone walls, a girl with violet hair emerged from the shadows, her steps silent against the polished marble floor.
A heavy expression weighed on her face, as if she carried the burden of a world. She passed by several armored figures—each battle-worn, their gear ragged and stained by the filth of the Demon Realm.
After what felt like her hundredth turn, she finally stopped.
Towering before her were massive double doors, forged from dark steel and blackened wood. Two heavily armored guards flanked the entrance, imposing and silent—until they saw her.
"Morning, Lady Ayla," one of them greeted, his visor dipping respectfully.
"I need to speak with Aemond. There's a matter we must discuss."
Though she couldn't see it, the guard's expression tightened.
"My apologies, Lady Ayla, but we've been ordered not to let you in—"
