Elara sat at her desk, her slender fingers drumming against the polished wood in an impatient rhythm. The room around her was filled with the trappings of wealth and nobility—heavy drapes in deep burgundy, ornate furniture carved from the finest woods, and shelves lined with leather-bound books and priceless artifacts. Each item had been chosen to reflect the family's status, but none of it brought her any comfort. The task Professor Draven had given them gnawed at her mind, refusing to be solved. She felt the weight of expectation pressing down on her shoulders, a burden she carried silently.
"Elara, why don't you take a break?" Her father's voice broke the silence, causing her to flinch. He stood in the doorway, his expression a mix of concern and frustration. His tall frame cast a shadow over the threshold, a reminder of the authority he wielded both in the household and beyond. "You've been at it for hours."
