Windmere looked different in daylight—less ominous, more pathetic. As Cecilia and I walked through the eastern district, I couldn't help noticing the contrast between the townspeople's modest homes and the mayor's ostentatious mansion. Small gardens struggled for sunlight between tightly packed buildings. Children played in narrow alleys, their laughter cutting off abruptly when they spotted us.
"They're scared of strangers," Cecilia observed, her fingers intertwined with mine. Despite the seriousness of our mission, she'd insisted on maintaining our couple facade. Not that I was complaining—her hand felt warm against mine, a reminder that I wasn't facing this alone.
"Not just strangers," I replied, watching a woman hurry inside as we approached, slamming her door shut. "They're scared of everything."
