"Yes," Lira admitted quietly, her eyes fixed on the steam rising from her cup. "But not while the world hunts us. Not while they're burning witches in the squares."
Silvia nodded, her jaw tightening. "I've seen it. The smoke. The pyres." Her voice faltered, a tremor breaking through her resolve. "I still smell it in my sleep."
Lira's hand squeezed hers again, their fingers interlocking, grounding each other in the shared memory of fear, of survival, of blood that bound them through it all.
The door creaked faintly then, a soft sound that made both sisters freeze, their breaths catching in unison.
But a small, bright giggle followed, shattering the tension.
"Mother?"
A little girl peeked in, her black hair glossy and smooth, her icy blue eyes wide with innocence.
She wore a pale dress, too long for her small frame, the hem dragging across the floor as she padded forward, her tiny feet bare.
"Kiara."
