The house at the edge of the forest was quiet, the night stretching like a velvet curtain embroidered with stars. A few lamps burned gently, casting golden glows over the old Lova residence. Inside the wooden hall, the faint scent of pine oil mixed with fresh ink.
Kent walked through the dimly lit corridor, drawn by the soft, rhythmic strokes of a brush. The door was open, and inside sat the head of the Lova family, Lord Teron Lova, hunched over a long wooden table, drawing talismans with effortless grace.
Each brushstroke glowed for a moment before settling into a quiet stillness on the paper. The sigils were refined—complex runes meant for channeling aura, amplifying spells, or reinforcing weaponry. Across the room, a dozen talismans lay neatly stacked, all meant for his daughter, the whip-wielding warrior of the ring.
Kent hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. "May I ask something?" he said, voice calm but curious.
