At this time, the fort was very calm, silent even. It was the night before the finally battle against the Darkling— if everything did go as planned, which was close to zero.

All around the two sitting figures, softly lighted up by the multiple candles, the room is austere yet grand enough, just oerfect for a fort upper chamber, its walls adorned with tapestries—woven of flickering flame of pale orange and deeper in the fireplace, and soft pale coloured bedsheets at the far end. Tall furniture and painting both sides of the chamber, the austere light of fire upon candlelight allowing warming light to cast ethereal patterns upon the flooring and wall, betraying nothing of the once two chatting old friends.

Laughs, share of anecdotes, lighthearted conversation and mindless sketching of flying ships, that was what Nikolai lived for with his childhood friend currently. An old, fancy bottle opened and almost finished, is standing upon the cold wood of the table, scattered paper all around, as he lay back on his chair, one arm lying lazily over the top rail, fingertips drawing mindlessly pattern.

Now, the heavy silence is hanging like a cape over his shoulder. The silence is suddenly suffocating, and his blue eyes found their way upon the other, looking at his features as he seemed lost in his mind.