He stood in the outer ring long before the compound even thought about stirring.
The departure was scheduled for the seventh hour. When that time came, the household would gather at the heavy iron gates. Ryuken would stand in the doorway of the inner sanctum, a silent sentinel beneath the steady glow of his lamp. Old Shen would linger in the courtyard, trying to mask the quiet melancholy of a man whose vibrant dining table was about to become painfully empty once again. Vane understood this specific, heavy rhythm of a Razar farewell. He had witnessed it operate across multiple visits, but today he needed a moment outside of that tradition. He had time.
