~ Seraphina's POV ~
The scent of freshly baked bread and spiced herbs curled into the hallway like a warm invitation, wrapping around me like the memory of a home I no longer had.
It tugged me forward before my mind had fully caught up, bare feet padding over the polished wood floors of the Silver Moon Packhouse.
The chill of the morning still clung to my skin, and my long, white hair tumbled in a messy curtain over one shoulder, strands catching in my lashes.
Sleep clung to me like a second skin, heavy and reluctant, but curiosity pulled harder.
I followed the trail of scent until the hum of breakfast chatter met my ears—a soft, comforting murmur of clinking cutlery and the low cadence of voices. But the moment I stepped into the dining hall, that easy rhythm fractured.
Conversation
