The garden was quieter than Phaeryl expected.
After everything—the guards, the tension, the lingering sense that this place held more secrets than safety—she hadn’t imagined peace could exist here. Yet the moment she stepped past the stone archway, it wrapped around her like a soft hush.
Flowers bloomed in careful chaos. Pale violets brushed against deep crimson roses and winding ivy curled lazily along marble pillars. Somewhere nearby, water trickled in a slow, calming rhythm.
“It’s my favorite place.”
Phaeryl turned at the sound of Mira’s voice.
The Luna approached with her usual warmth, sunlight catching in her long, light-brown hair. There was something effortless about her beauty; something that didn’t feel forced or intimidating, just… steady.
“I thought you might like it,” Mir
