As the gentle voice echoed through the workshop, Julius slowly turned his head, his brows knitting together in faint confusion.
Standing quietly at the entrance was Lyra, his wife. She wore a simple dress dusted with dirt from the road, and although she tried to compose herself, the worry on her beautiful face was impossible to hide.
Dark circles had formed beneath her eyes, and strands of hair clung messily to her cheeks, as though she had been searching for him without rest.
Julius looked at her only briefly before silently turning away, his attention returning to the unfinished sculpture standing before him.
Without uttering a single word, he raised his hammer and chisel once more, the familiar rhythm of steel striking stone filling the workshop as if her arrival had never happened.
