She spoke of her mother, a woman of quiet strength and boundless kindness, whose love had been the bedrock of Elara’s childhood. She recalled the scent of her mother’s lavender gardens, the gentle cadence of her voice as she sang lullabies. Tears streamed down Elara’s face, not the cathartic sobs of overwhelming grief, but a steady, mournful flow, a quiet acknowledgment of what was irrevocably lost. Kael simply stood by, offering a steady arm for her to lean on, his silence more eloquent than any words of comfort. He understood that this was not about forgetting, but about remembering with a love that outshone the pain.Then, she turned her gaze to the remnants of her father's study. The heavy oak desk, though scarred and broken, still held the faint scent of aged parchment and ink. Her father, a scholar and a strategist, had been her first teacher, instilling in her a love for knowledge and a sense of duty. Elara picked up a charred fragment of a scroll, a brittle whisper of his wisd
Last Updated : 2026-01-29
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