A sliver of sunlight, cold and sharp, speared through the intricately woven curtains of Silax's room. He stirred as he cracked open his eyes, the remnants of a dream clinging to his thoughts.
He threw back the covers and got out of bed, his movements precise and efficient. He glanced at the clock on his wall, it was just past sunrise, yet the city seemed to hum with a tense energy.
The normally cheerful chirping of the songbirds was subdued, replaced by a watchful silence.
Today was the day. The Triarchs who rarely addressed the city, were convening an assembly. It wasn't a festive gathering.
He had meticulously planned his morning. A quick breakfast of Moonbeam bread and Glowpetal tea would fuel him.
His cloak, the emerald green a stark contrast to his red attire, lay neatly folded at the foot of the bed. It held not just warmth, but hidden pockets filled with vials of blood rich in Radix and a slim, sharp dagger for emergencies.