Elena's POV
Dinner that night was a quiet, intimate affair, steeped in the kind of warmth that only comes from shared burdens and silent understanding. The air was thick with the scent of roasted herbs and fresh bread, wrapping around us like an embrace too familiar to resist. The flickering candlelight softened the edges of the room, painting everything in gold, making it feel almost safe.
Luna Avery had set the table with meticulous care—each plate perfectly placed; each candle positioned just so. It was the kind of effort someone makes when they are trying to rebuild something broken, stitching together fragments of normalcy with delicate hands.
She sat at the head of the table, her presence both steady and maternal. London and I were across from each other, our gazes meeting and fli
