So she made her way back to the small inn.
She had already eaten earlier, so she went straight to bed. To her quiet surprise, the room looked untouched. She had strictly ordered that no one was to enter without her permission—not even for cleaning—and cleaning could only be done when she or her companions were present. She hadn't really expected them to follow that rule, but they had. Her belongings were untouched; even the hair strands she had left near her pillow were in the same place.
That small detail gave her a faint sense of relief. She laid down, exhaustion settling in quickly, and within moments, sleep pulled her under.
None of them knew that while they slept peacefully, another storm was already racing toward them—fast, unseen, and merciless.
.
.
.
When they woke up the next day, everything went on as usual — the same work, the same routine, like a ritual they had already memorized. They dressed and went to the market again to look around.
