"Septimius? Is everything alright?"Servilia's voice trembled slightly as she looked at Nathan, her eyes filled with unease. His expression had hardened — cold, distant, and calculating — the kind of look that warned everyone around him to hold their breath.
Nathan raised a hand in silence, his gaze sharpening as he focused inward, tuning out the sound of the crackling torches and the faint whisper of wind that slipped through the shutters. He extended his senses — a talent honed through countless battles and near-deaths — reaching beyond the walls of the estate.
There.
A dozen heartbeats pulsed faintly in the darkness.
Twelve figures, all moving with purpose, cloaked by concealment spells so crude they might as well have been wearing banners announcing their presence. To most, they would have been invisible. But to Nathan, whose awareness had once brushed against the divine, their stealth was laughable.
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath.
