The world was cold and desolate, but like the shifting sun, it was a cycle of great chance. Sometimes, it was warm. Sometimes, it was a source of wealth, knowledge, and kindness.
It all depended on perspective. The world changed as long as you had the power to change it. As long as you had the eyes for it—the perspective.
Dasha had always known that. Dasha had always done that. However, never before had it been so pertinent than now. Here, in the Les Murmures, who had amassed knowledge like no other. The second floor was full of that knowledge in written form.
The first floor was their treasury. Physical representations of their days. A room of mirrors and treasure chests, impossible to tell apart except for those that were given that knowledge and the keys. Grace was one of those people, opening up a seemingly innocent treasure chest and handing him fabric that stunned Dasha's knowledge.
