-Ronan Hale:
The room was small but warm. The walls were made of dark wood, polished smooth by time, with the faint scent of pine lingering in the air. A thick, woven rug covered the floor, deep red and gold, its edges slightly frayed from years of use.
A single candle flickered on the nightstand, casting long, lazy shadows across the space, the dim glow barely reaching the corners of the room. The bed—one bed—took up most of the space, its heavy blankets neatly folded at the foot, looking too soft, too inviting. It was large enough to fit three, but still too small for comfort.
I sat on the edge of it, elbows resting on my thighs, fingers loosely laced together as I listened to the faint splashes of water from behind the closed bathroom door. Elara had insisted on bathing first, and she was taking her time. I could hear the quiet shifting of water, and the occasional sigh as she relaxed into the warmth.
