The morning was quiet, the air heavy with a sense of impending change. Alaric stood at the entrance of the mansion, watching as the final preparations were made for Morgana, Maria, and Lucy's departure. Carriages lined the path, their dark outlines blending with the mist that clung to the ground. Horses snorted in the cold air, and servants hurried about, loading the last of the belongings into the vehicles.
Morgana stood by one of the carriages, her expression calm but focused. Maria was next to her, holding Lucy's hand tightly. Lucy, in her usual way, tried to lighten the mood with a brave smile, though Alaric could see the fatigue in her eyes. The curse was still there, lingering beneath the surface, a constant reminder of the danger they were in.
