Mikaela, who had been dozing in her carriage, suddenly awoke. She sat up quickly, her breath hitching in her throat. Her heart thudded in her chest, and a cold sweat clung to her skin despite the warmth inside the carriage. The air felt dense, as if the very atmosphere around her had changed. She looked around, her eyes adjusting to the faint light seeping through the carriage curtains. The children remained asleep, their breathing steady and soft, but Mikaela couldn't escape the unease that had startled her awake.
She placed a hand on her chest, attempting to steady her racing heart. The feeling was familiar—a deep, instinctive awareness that something was amiss. Something was terribly wrong. She sensed it in her bones, a shiver of unease that tingled at the edge of her consciousness.
"… My beloved?" Mikaela's voice trembled as she whispered his name, her fingers clutching the edge of the carriage seat.
