[Meredith].
Draven and I walked back toward my grandmother's house in silence, the path lit by the last slant of the setting sun.
The air had cooled, carrying the scent of damp earth and woodsmoke, and with every step, the familiar ache in my chest eased just a little. At least for now, the argument was done.
When we reached the house, a servant was already waiting near the entrance. She bowed lightly when she saw me.
"Lady Meredith," she said, her tone warm. "Your grandmother wishes to inform you that there will be a bonfire tonight. She invites you to join after dinner."
My tiredness faded instantly, replaced by a spark of excitement. A bonfire night here wasn't just a gathering—it was laughter, music, movement, and the quiet magic woven into everything.
Dancing barefoot on warm earth. Stories carried by firelight. Things 'Stormveil' never had.
"Of course, I—we would love to," I said without hesitation.
The servant smiled and bowed again.
