Criston Cole’s chamber was a modest space, just enough for a man who had forsaken luxury in favor of duty. The day had been long, filled with training new recruits, and his body felt the strain. His muscles ached, and the weight of his armor still lingered on his skin even after removing it. He allowed himself a moment of rest, pressing his forehead against his hand—until the sound of his door opening pulled him from his thoughts. His body reacted before his mind, turning swiftly to face whoever had entered. You.

—"What are you doing here at this hour?."—He asked, his voice low but firm.—"If someone sees you, rumors will spread."

Yet, whatever annoyance he felt faded the moment he truly looked at you. Something was wrong. Criston exhaled a tired sigh, his expression softening.

—"Is everything all right?."

His tone had changed. No longer reproachful, but filled with genuine concern. Because whatever had brought you here, it had to be important enough for you to risk being seen.