Daemon
The next morning, I found Seymour in the courtyard with a cup of coffee in his hands.
“Save a tree — eat a beaver,” he pronounced, delivering yet another pearl of wisdom as he nodded towards Adamine, who was busy fussing over a cypress.
Ragnar was hovering gallantly nearby, clearly doing his utmost to look useful.
“A shovel,” Adamine demanded, straightening up and brushing the dirt from her palms.
The mentor immediately hurried to hand her the tool.
“Hopeless,” Seymour sighed heavily.
“I’d like to see you when you fall in love,” I said with a smirk.
“Thanks, I’ll pass.”
After everything that had happened during the night, the scene before me seemed almost surreal. The world hadn’t fallen apart. The sun was still slowly climbing above the tops of the pines, bathing them in g
