Waking up from another restless night, Edwin lay still, staring at the ornate canopy above. Despite the comfort of the luxurious bed, sleep had been elusive. He'd spent the night poring over what scraps of information he could recall from his past life, piecing together an understanding of this world beyond what the novel had offered him.
He knew today was crucial. The Awakening Ceremony loomed, conducted by the priest who would soon arrive. It was a tradition he needed to survive, and yet, something he understood only in fragments. But that would come later. For now, he had another task at hand.
As Edwin's thoughts collected, a sudden knock at the door made him flinch. It was the maid, reminding him of the bath prepared down the hall. Rising from the bed, he composed himself, knowing he'd have to maintain the facade of nobility despite the turmoil within.
On his way out, Edwin paused. Through a side window, he glimpsed his brother, Caius, engaged in the morning training ritual. The sound of steel against steel echoed, a constant reminder of the martial expectations placed upon the sons of House Velloran. Caius's dedication was admirable, yet it underscored Edwin's own inadequacies in their father's eyes.
But today, Edwin had other priorities. As a noble, permission was a formality he could bypass, especially when his venture was vital. He needed to meet Shadow in the city—Thorneveil, the capital under Velloran governance. Their estate, strategically situated on the outskirts, served as both a home and a training ground due to its military heritage.
With a determined breath, Edwin set out, aware that each step drew him deeper into the world he must now navigate. The path ahead was fraught with risks and new alliances, but survival demanded nothing less.
Edwin strode through the manor with hurried purpose, passing yawning halls and hollowed chambers that seemed to leer at his venture. The walls held the echoes of a once-vibrant dynasty, now hollowed like a husk. Each footfall resounded with an urgency that belied his outward calm, the tap of his boots a metronome to his racing thoughts.
Downstairs, he dismissed the waiting carriage with a wave, casting off the trappings of formality. If the servants whispered of his choices, he did not care; speed and secrecy mattered more. He took the winding back trail instead, a narrow, abandoned path that led away from the estate's watchful eyes and toward the sprawling expanse of Thorneveil in the distance.
The city loomed, a monolith of shadow and light. From afar, its silhouette was a testament to contradiction—upper layers of opulence barely masking the tangled web beneath. Thorneveil teemed with life and danger
Thorneveil buzzed with motion. Edwin kept his hood low, slipping through the crowd toward the auction house.
There was no need for a map. He remembered the layout from Edwin`s memories.
The auction house stood near the center plaza — stone walls, wide steps, quiet guards. That's where the sigil was. That's where Shadow would be.
Inside, the auction house was dimly lit, the air thick with perfume and quiet anticipation. Edwin kept his head down, his cloak draped over his shoulders like a second skin. No one gave him a second glance — just another bidder, maybe a low noble's errand boy trying to look important.
He claimed a seat near the middle, close enough to watch without drawing attention. The auction hadn't started yet. Servants moved in and out, laying out the display items behind velvet ropes. The murmurs in the room rose and fell like waves.
He kept his eyes moving, scanning the room from behind his hood. Dozens of faces, merchants, minor nobles, a few masked figures — none of them hers.
The auction was moments from starting. His nerves were steady, but his focus sharpened. He knew she'd be here. She had to be.
Then, near the corner — leaning against a marble column, half-shadowed, dressed in simple dark robes — he saw her. Just standing there. A forgettable presense , if you didn't know what to look for.
Shadow.
He leaned back in his seat.
Now it begins.