The healer's chamber smelled faintly of crushed herbs and warm iron.
A thin ribbon of smoke curled upward from a small clay bowl resting beside the ritual table.
Morning light slipped quietly through the tall arched window where pale sunbeams filtered across shelves filled with glass vials and leather-bound medical journals, and though the chamber felt peaceful compared to the restless tension lingering throughout the estate there remained a strange heaviness in the air as though the walls themselves understood that the ritual about to take place might reveal something far greater than simple medical curiosity.
Elara stood near the center of the room.
Her hands rested loosely at her sides while she watched the healer preparing the tools with careful patience, and despite the calm expression she tried to maintain there remained a faint nervousness flickering beneath her composure like a candle flame struggling against a quiet draft.
