The firelight flickered against the rough-hewn walls of Aria’s small home, casting golden patterns across shelves of jars, folded linens, and the worn wooden cradle by the hearth. Outside, the world lay sealed in frost and darkness, but inside, warmth reigned—a quiet refuge she had built from hardship and hope.
The night was peaceful. The village celebration had faded into memories of laughter and music. Xander had stayed until the embers burned low, ensuring she was safe before leaving to meet with the council. And for the first time in weeks, Aria was alone. The solitude was gentle, not heavy—just a moment to breathe, to listen to the crackling fire, the child’s gentle movements within her, and the steady rhythm of her own heart.
Sitting cross-legged on a woven rug, her woollen shawl w
