Elowen’s POV
The descent from the mansion to the Academy grounds was slow, deliberate. Each step was a careful negotiation between my desire for movement and the dull, persistent throb in my injured leg. The late afternoon sun, a molten orb sinking towards the horizon, cast long, dancing shadows across the manicured lawns and the surrounding wild grasses. A gentle breeze, carrying the earthy scent of pine needles and the cool dampness of the nearby stone walls, rustled through the tall blades, a soothing whisper against the lingering tension of the past night.
After a breakfast filled with an almost exaggerated normalcy – pancakes cooked with surprising care by a brooding Ranon, Alaric’s meticulously brewed calming tea, and Theron’s surprisingly gentle teasing – I had pleaded with them to allow me a brief excursion to the Academy grounds. Not for rigorous training, not yet. Just for fresh air, the feel of the earth beneath my feet, and perhaps a few slow, deliberate movements to remin
