The room door opened again and Arne walked in.
"Matt" Arne's voice rang in the quiet room. The room stilled.
The castle was quiet that night, wrapped in a heavy, suffocating silence that seemed to press against the ancient stone walls.
Matt stood motionless at the high arched window of the room they had assigned him, staring out at the moonlit gardens below. The silver light washed over the manicured hedges and winding stone paths, casting long, distorted shadows that mirrored the chaotic churning of his own mind. His thoughts were entirely consumed by Yvonne—by the fragile, devastating sight of her earlier, and by the sheer weight of the reality he now found himself trapped in.
A sharp, deliberate knock shattered the stillness of the room.
"Enter," Matt said, his voice flat, devoid of the warmth or authority it usually carried.
