The soft scent of lavender filled the study, mingling with the faint rustle of parchment and the occasional creak of the high-backed chair. Sunlight poured in through tall windows, casting golden streaks across the polished wood and the stacks of documents that cluttered the desk.
Lyra Steele, draped in a regal gown that hugged her hourglass figure, was deeply engrossed in a pile of reports
Her blonde hair cascaded in shimmering waves down her back, catching the sunlight like a waterfall of gold.
Her blue eyes, usually calm and confident, were shadowed with worry as they scanned the dense text.
A knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up, her expression softening as she saw her son step into the room.
"Alaric," she greeted, her face lighting up with a warm smile. "Come in, darling."
Alaric closed the door behind him, his movements deliberate and measured as always.
