Chapter 108
The night air was thick with the scent of damp earth and torch smoke as we made our way toward the secluded pond. Our footsteps were careful, measured with hands resting on weapons and eyes scanning every shadow. The note had been vague, and vagueness in noble politics usually meant trouble.
Bran spoke first. "Are we sure this is wise?"
"No," I replied flatly.
Vorrak grumbled from the satchel. "We should've handed the note to the guards. Let them deal with it. That's what sane people would've done atleast."
Finn disagreed. "Right. Because nothing screams 'we're definitely not guilty' like sprinting to the authorities with secret midnight invitations."
He had a point.
I kept my grip tight on Moodrender's hilt. The sword hummed softly in anticipation, her energy thrumming through my palm like a second heartbeat. I shared Bran's unease, but I also knew we could handle whatever nonsense awaited us. Probably.
