Aria sat in the quiet of her room, her gaze drifting over the familiar yet distant corners of her past. The memories of her childhood were like shadows—faint, hazy, and elusive. She couldn't remember her parents clearly; they were more like fleeting echoes than real figures.
The only presence she could grasp from those early years was her grandfather, a towering figure who had provided everything she needed but never the warmth of true affection.
He came to her occasionally, always weary, his tired eyes reflecting the weight of endless responsibilities. Even though she yearned to bridge the gap between them, her own anxiety and a maturity that felt more like a shield than a strength kept her from speaking up.
She learned to navigate the vast, echoing halls of their estate with a quiet resolve, seeking solace in the endless rows of books. The library became her sanctuary, a place where magic, strategy, and history filled the emptiness left by the absence of human connection.
