The next morning, I made a decision. I was going to talk to Ciara. I didn't know what I would say, or how she would react, but I couldn't keep avoiding the issue. It was time to face whatever was happening between us, to figure out what we were and where we stood.
With my resolve strengthened, I set out to find Ciara. The castle, usually a place of comfort with its familiar corridors and well-worn paths, felt different today.
The wide expanse of the field was empty, the sound of clashing blades and shouted commands absent in the early morning light. The emptiness only heightened my anxiety, as if the very air was holding its breath, waiting.
From the training grounds, I made my way to the armory, my mind conjuring images of Ciara meticulously sharpening her blade or inspecting the weaponry with her usual intensity. The armory, however, was quiet, the scent of oiled leather and cold steel filling the space but offering no sign of her presence.