The private quarters of the Volturi palace were a world apart from the cold, intimidating grandeur of the public halls. Here, the silence felt intimate, not oppressive, and the air carried a faint trace of aged wood and candle wax. Ancient paintings adorned the stone walls, their subjects long forgotten, and the dim light from a nearby candelabra flickered across the intricate patterns of the rugs beneath your feet.

You sat on a velvet chaise near the wide, arched window, gazing out at the moonlit streets of Volterra far below. The quiet of the palace at night always carried an edge of tension, a reminder of the dangerous beings that dwelled here. Yet, you had grown used to it—found comfort in it, even.

"I wondered where you had disappeared to."

His voice broke the stillness, low and smooth. You didn’t need to turn to know Caius was there, his presence filling the room as effortlessly as the moonlight spilling in.