The gates of House Thorne groaned as they opened, iron meeting stone with a deep echo that rolled through the courtyard. The midday sun hit the worn path leading to the mansion, its glow catching faint dust motes dancing in the air.
Noel stood at the entrance, one hand resting casually on Revenant Fang's hilt, the other in his pocket. Noir sat beside him in her small form, tail flicking lazily as her violet eyes followed the approaching carriage.
'They're really here,' Noel thought, watching the ornate Estermont crest painted along the carriage door. 'All four of them. Together. Great.'
The wheels stopped with a soft creak. A moment later, the door opened—and Elyra von Estermont was the first to step down. Her long black braid swayed with the movement, and the confident smirk on her lips came as naturally as breathing.
"Well," she said, hands on her hips, "look who's pretending to be responsible."
Noel's brow twitched. "It's called standing."
