After Elara went to bed, exhausted and shaken from the attack, I lingered in the hallway, my thoughts racing. The weight of the day's events bore down on me, but the most pressing concern was ensuring Elara's safety.
Each step I took toward our chambers felt like trudging through a mire of anxiety and fear. Just as I reached the heavy wooden doors, a familiar presence blocked my path.
"Seraphina," my grandmother's voice cut through the air, cold and commanding. Her sharp eyes, glinting like daggers, scrutinized me with an intensity that could pierce armor.
She stood there, a formidable figure draped in the regalia of our house, exuding an air of unassailable authority.
"Grandmother," I acknowledged, forcing a calm demeanor despite the turmoil inside me. The tension between us was palpable, the air thick with unspoken accusations.
