To Her Window, Through the Wind
The world was wrapped in silence.
Leon crept as softly as a breath on the edge of the estate, boots rustling lightly over the cool grass. He halted behind a tall hedgerow, stooping low under the broad canopy of a banyan tree. The moon shone through the leaves, casting fluttering shadows on his face and white shirt.
A soft wind blew, brushing the fabric against his body. The twin moons' silver light bathed the garden—illuminating stone pathways, clipped hedges, and the dew-kissed grass like a soft dream. His golden eyes, keen and unwavering, ranged across the distance.
Across the way was the mansion—stately and imposing—enclosed by ivy-encrusted walls and marble flowerbeds. Guards in green-and-black armor paced along the edges, spears glinting dimly as they walked in silent, practiced steps.
Leon didn't flinch.
Then, with no hesitation at all, he struck out.
His form wavered.
