The sun had just begun to rise over the rooftops of Grafen, casting a warm, golden light that filled the city streets with a quiet peace. Clarisse adjusted the weight of her sleeping son on her hip as she stepped out of the high-end inn where they had been staying. Her long blonde hair, tied back in a loose braid, shimmered in the sunlight, and she looked every bit the beautiful noblewoman, though her circumstances were anything but luxurious.
Grafen had become her home after everything fell apart. After the war, after Lucan's death, and after her father-in-law Hektor's betrayal. She hadn't chosen this life, but she was determined to make it bearable, if only for her son. The little boy, barely ten months old, snuggled against her chest, his soft breaths warm against her neck. He was all she had left, and everything she did now was for him.
