Lital nodded, her black eyes distant for a moment, lost in memory.
Kael felt something tighten in his chest.
This wasn't just some hideout or lair, a temporary bolt-hole.
This was personal—roots buried deep in the soil of her past.
"Come," she said, tugging him gently forward, her black fingernails grazing his skin in a light, possessive touch.
She gave him a quiet tour, room by room, her steps light and reverent, as if walking through a museum of her own life.
Each one small, functional, but clean now under her power's touch—lived-in echoes of simpler times, beds with faded quilts, shelves lined with dusty knick-knacks that she brushed clean with a wave of shadow.
In the corner of a modest bedroom, she pulled out a small bookshelf tucked between a dresser and a curtain-draped window, the wood groaning faintly as she reached for a volume.
From it, she took a worn book, handling it with care, her black fingernails tracing the spine like a lover's caress.
