A quiet night had passed since Luke and Ilyrana's arrival in Virencia. Despite the tension of the previous evening, neither of them had been disturbed further, and the castle's stillness had eventually lulled them into restful sleep.
But as the first light of dawn crept through the ornate windows, a sudden knock on the door startled Luke awake. It wasn't loud—just firm enough to stir him, yet not enough to wake Ilyrana, who remained peacefully asleep beside him.
Luke groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. His hair was an absolute mess, sticking out in odd angles, and his mind was still groggy from sleep. He lazily ran his fingers through it, trying to fix it somewhat, then dragged himself out of bed. Barefoot and still in the loose tunic he had worn to sleep, he made his way to the door.
With a yawn, he cracked it open—only for his drowsiness to evaporate in an instant.
