The morning air at the Volkov Estate was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-soaked roses from the sprawling gardens below. Theo stood at the balcony of his room, his hands gripping the cold wrought-iron railing.
The estate sprawled before him—a labyrinth of pristine marble pathways, towering hedges trimmed into intricate designs, and fountains that glistened like diamonds in the morning sun. Beyond the gardens, the forests stretched endlessly, their dense canopy fading into misty horizons.
It was beautiful. Too beautiful.
Theo couldn't reconcile this place with the life he had lived for the past three years—a life of shadowy caves, bloodied battles, and restless nights under a starless sky. The beauty of the estate felt like an affront, a reminder of everything he had been denied off.
