A thin mist of steam still clung to the bathhouse, coating the black stone walls and curling lazily above the surface of the water. The blue glow of enchanted torches reflected across the rippling hot spring, casting trembling shadows that seemed alive. What was usually a cold, rigid atmosphere in the black castle was now softened by the calm presence of three women leaning against the pool's edge, their damp hair plastered to their shoulders, their eyes more relaxed than they had been in days.
Alicia had already finished half her bowl of porridge, while Stacia sipped her tea with a serious expression, her cheeks still flushed from the heat. Sylvia, seated a little farther away at the side of the pool, hadn't touched her food at all. Her crimson eyes glimmered faintly as she stared at the water's surface, disturbed only by a gentle ripple.
The silence, once peaceful, began to feel heavy until Sylvia finally spoke.
