Meanwhile, in an exquisite room adorned with rich purple drapes and intricate gold designs, Anaya sat quietly. The delicate scent of lavender hung in the air, blending with the faint glow of golden candlelight reflecting off the polished surfaces. She was now dressed in a flowing purple blouse paired with a matching skirt, her long hair intricately styled and adorned with golden hairpins that shimmered like stars.
She sat at a carved wooden table, where a piece of parchment and a quill lay before her. Her slender fingers trembled slightly as she dipped the quill into the inkwell and scribbled the same words she had written countless times before:
Where is Rhys?
Her handwriting had grown shaky, smudged with the dried traces of past tears and the fresh ones now falling silently down her cheeks. It felt like she had written those same four words a hundred times...no, perhaps more.
