The first light of dawn brushed across the mountains, painting the horizon with gold and rose. Inside the wooden cabin, a faint breath of morning air slipped through the cracks, carrying with it the scent of pine and ash from last night's fire.
Elara stirred.
Her silver-white lashes trembled before her eyes slowly opened. For a moment, she blinked in confusion at the ceiling beams above her. Then she felt it—a soft, warm weight covering her. A tanned animal-skin quilt, smelling faintly of smoke and sunlight.
Her chest warmed at once.
Luciel must have covered her with it again.
The white-haired girl turned her head slightly, her gaze falling on the wall across the room—lined with swords, spears, and old tools. The morning light glinted across polished blades. Somehow, the sight made her smile.
