The halls of the Varnis estate felt colder now, quieter—as if they too recognized that a final chapter was closing.
Veyra walked alone, her steps slow and unsure. She hadn't packed anything; there was nothing she wanted to take. What she needed was already inside her: the weight of expectation, the sting of exile, and the fragile bloom of possibility.
She reached a side chamber just off the garden path, where a tall boy with a quiet demeanor sat with a book in hand. Her older brother, Calven. He looked up, startled.
"Veyra…? You're back already?"
She gave him a weak smile, then nodded.
"Not for long," she said softly. "I'm leaving."
His expression faltered. The book fell from his lap as he stood, moving toward her. "Leaving? What are you talking about?"
"I'm not part of the family anymore." She looked up at him. "I've been… given away. As part of a deal."
Calven's hands clenched at his sides. "To who?"
