AMAYA
The next morning feels… different.
I can’t explain why, but I just know that something is up.
The air in the estate is the same. Real crisp with the early light, I could still smell the faint scent of pine and damp earth from the night’s rain.
The servants move with the same tired rhythm, clattering pots in the kitchens and sweeping corridors.
Everyone seems to be normal, going about their daily chores, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.
It seemed like the entire place was holding its breath in anticipation of the drop of the other shoe.
I feel it most when I step into the courtyard.
The garden beds are still wet from the rain, their dark soil breathing up the smell of mint and rosemary. My job this morning is to trim the herb clusters before the sun
