As soon as Luna slipped out of the council room, her steps quickened. She moved through the stone halls with purpose, heading straight in the direction the chief had discreetly pointed out—the infirmary.
Her heart still beat rapidly from the tension she had left behind. Bastiel and Rhaevos were likely still at each other's throats, figuratively or literally.
Their clash was loud enough to shake the very floor.
And thanks to that, no one noticed her slip away. No curious eyes. No accusing stares. No suspicious glances. Just chaos behind her—and silence ahead.
She arrived at the infirmary doors sooner than she expected. A simple wooden frame with metal hinges, worn down at the edges, as though clawed or pushed open too many times in a hurry.
Now, standing in front of it, Luna paused. Her hand hovered mid-air near the surface.
'Should I... wait for him to come out? But what if he's planning to stay here until evening?' she thought, scanning the quiet hallway.
