Chapter 90 : Rescue and Regret
There was something inherently suspicious about an abandoned noble estate at the edge of town.
Too many clean windows.
Too many roses still blooming on the vines.
And far, far too many birds not singing.
Elias crouched behind the rusted iron gate, his breath visible in the early evening chill. The manor loomed before them—three stories of ghost stories and questionable architecture.
"Why do villains always pick places that look like they eat orphans?" he whispered.
Revantra, kneeling beside him, adjusted the laces on her left boot with silent precision. "It's dramatic," she said. "You wouldn't understand."
"I'm dramatic," Elias whispered back. "I'm also allergic to haunted staircases and soul-draining wall sconces."
She gave him a look, somewhere between amusement and exasperation.
Behind them, a bush sneezed.
Elias turned. "Theo?"