The sunlight had already filled the room completely, yet the air still held the soft, cool traces of the night. Through the narrow gaps in the window shutters, the gentle sounds of the garden drifted in—birds chirping, the faint trickle of water in the distance, and the near-whisper of a breeze. As if the estate itself was breathing, quietly and deliberately.
Andromeda rested silently in bed, her back supported by pillows, a fresh bandage wrapped around her thigh. Her eyes were tired but clear. The pain wasn’t sharp—it was more like a reminder. Of what had happened. Of what she had survived. And that something new, something strange had begun, a state she didn’t yet know how to place herself within.
Lucian stood on the other side of the room, at a small desk he’d had placed in the corner
