Leila/Liora POV
The packhouse kitchen is a warm cocoon, its worn wooden counters dusted with flour, the air rich with the buttery sweetness of fresh-baked bread and the sizzle of melted butter in a skillet - a sanctuary that soothes the raw edges of my nerves after days of rogue attacks, the oracle’s chilling revelations, and those haunting dreams of Marcus’s betrayal. This room feels like a deep breath, a shield against the shadows closing in. Aria stirs faintly in my chest, a soft vibration, not yet free from the silver’s curse but closer, like she’s waking to the comforting scent of Miss Ophelia’s warmth and the familiar rhythm of home. I stand at the counter, my hands clumsy with a mixing bowl, trying to follow Miss Ophelia’s patient orders as she bustles around, her calloused hands d
