49. The Hidden Monster

[MAGNUS]

It is close to midnight, and the air is thick with tension. Alistair and I navigate the labyrinthine hallways of the palace, each step measured, each breath controlled. The human soldiers, assigned to guard these very halls, lie in a careless slumber, their soft snores a dangerous symphony we dare not disturb. The dim glow of torches casts flickering shadows that dance on the cold stone walls, and Elara, her form shrouded in a dark cloak, follows silently, her footsteps almost ghostly.

We reach the stables, the scent of hay and horses mingling with the cool night air. I pause, throwing a questioning glance at Elara. She has her eyes on me, her fingers pulling her cloak tighter around her slender frame.

She’s not turning back. I can see it in the set of her jaw, the steel in her eyes.

“Ready?” I ask, my voice a mere whisper but carrying the weight of the world.

She nods firmly. “Ready,” she responds, her voice a soft murmur. Her hand lowers to her hip, where a dagger gleams in