The cabin seemed to breathe with the quiet of early morning, golden light filtering through the small windows and pooling on the worn wooden floor. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its warmth filling the space, but the sound felt sharper than it should, intruding on the fragile silence. Outside, the faint chirp of birdcalls and the rustling of leaves hinted at a world untouched by the tension simmering within these walls.
The scent of tea hung in the air, faintly herbal, mingling with the earthy aroma of smoke and bread. Taryn inhaled deeply, her fingers tightening around the hilt of her blade. The smell tugged at something she didn't want to name—something distant and fleeting. A whisper of safety she had never known. She pushed the thought away and refocused, her grip firm, her blade steady.
Safety was a lie.
