When dawn broke through the crystal windows of her chamber, Shellia stirred beneath the soft silken sheets, the faint scent of lilac lingering in the air. The golden rays of morning danced across the marble floor, scattering warmth that gently kissed her cheeks. Slowly, her dark lashes fluttered open, revealing the serene blue of her eyes.
The room was quiet—eerily so. No sound of footsteps, no trace of anyone nearby. Even the faint hum of spirit energy that usually lingered after Yuki or Orielle visited was gone, leaving only stillness.
Shellia sat up, brushing a few stray strands of black hair from her face. "Strange…" she murmured softly, her voice still heavy with sleep. She glanced toward the corner of the room where Yuki often perched during the night, expecting to see the boy's white hair glimmering faintly in the light—but there was nothing. The armchair was empty, untouched.
