The private quarters of Sienna White were a world apart from the grandeur of the Alpha estate or the practical healer’s den. Tucked away in a quiet, sunlit corner of the manor, her room exuded a calm, cultivated peace. Soft light filtered through lace curtains, casting faint patterns across delicate tapestries. The air was filled with the scent of dried flowers, their muted bundles hanging from the ceiling—symbols of time and quiet care. This room spoke of deep roots, gentle grace, and an atmosphere far removed from the brutal spectacle of the arena outside.
Aria found herself in this space late that afternoon, drawn by a summons she hadn’t expected and couldn’t ignore. Sienna had quietly sent for her through an acolyte: “The Healer, please, when she has a moment.” The world outside still
