I had woken up early. As usual.
After going down to the first floor, I now wandered easily through the hallways of the guest quarters, which had become almost as familiar to me as my own thoughts.
The stewards bowed with a fluid gesture as I passed, precise and discreet.
The servants, with silent steps, glided between the walls like benevolent shadows, pacing the silence of the manor without ever disturbing it.
The suspended dining room was already bathed in a soft light, caressed by the first rays of the day filtering through the stained glass walls.
Outside, the Ember Garden was slowly waking up, dancing under a light mist.
Ashes floated around the glowing flowers, in slow hypnotic spirals, like fragments of dreams consumed and reborn.
I unfolded the daily newspaper, printed in shifting letters, black on shadowy white.
The news of the world vibrated between my fingers — wars, treaties, catastrophes... But my eyes drifted over the words without grasping them.
