Atlas

The citadel was quiet at this hour.

Atlas walked the corridors alone, his footsteps echoing softly against the stone. The torches flickered in their brackets, casting long shadows across the floor, and the silence pressed against his ears like water. He had always loved the stillness of the night—the way it settled over the world like a blanket, muffling the noise and chaos of the day.

But tonight, the stillness felt wrong. Heavy. Ominous.

He had noticed Calista's strange behavior ...