𝑰𝒗𝒚 | 𝑲𝒊𝒕 𝑻𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒔

𝟏.𝟐

The room was bathed in the soft, early morning light, a delicate hue of gold seeping through the cracks in the curtains. The world outside was still and serene, a stark contrast to the turbulence within Lyra's mind. The remnants of a restless night clung to her, haunting her thoughts like the fading echoes of a distant storm.

Unable to find solace in sleep, Lyra had spent the night in the grip of a recurring dream, a vision of a castle standing defiantly amidst the chaos of a thunderstorm. Its location remained unknown to her, yet the dream had left her profoundly unsettled. In the quiet predawn hours, she sat on the edge of her bed, wrapping her arms around herself as if to shield herself against the unseen forces that had troubled her subconscious.

Through the small window in her shared chamber with Bruni, Lyra sought refuge in the sky, watching as the first tendrils of sunlight began to paint the heavens with delicate hues of pink and gold. The sunrise, usually a source of comfort, felt distant today, unable to penetrate the shadows that clung to her thoughts.

After a while, determination sparked in her eyes, and a silent decision was made amidst the silent whispers of dawn. Rising, she moved with purpose, choosing to face the day despite the heaviness in her heart. She selected her attire thoughtfully, the fabric cool against her skin, and deftly braided her hair, the practiced motions a familiar anchor in the midst of uncertainty.

Her gaze shifted towards Bruni, still lost in the depths of slumber, her face peaceful in the soft morning light. A tender smile tugged at the corners of Lyra's lips. She approached Bruni's bed, leaning down to gently rouse her from her dreams. Bruni stirred, her protest evident until Lyra's voice, soft as a whispering breeze, reached her ears.

"I'm leaving, 'B'," Lyra said, her fingers threading lightly through Bruni's tousled, blonde hair. "I'll see you later during breakfast."

Bruni, her eyes heavy with sleep, nodded slightly, a gesture of understanding. With a final, affectionate touch. Lyra left the room, her heart heavy with the weight of the dream but determined to face the day ahead.

The castle was awakening, a symphony of muted noises filling the air as servants hurried about their tasks. Lyra, with her morning duties yet to claim her attention, found solace in the quiet moments before the day truly began. Since that night, that pivotal conversation with the princess, something had shifted in the atmosphere of the castle. A subtle change, imperceptible to most, but keenly felt by Lyra.