Morning came slowly, gray and unhurried.The rain had ended sometime before dawn, leaving behind a damp silence — the kind that carried both peace and unease, as if the world was still deciding which it wanted to be.Mist hovered low over the city, softening the rooftops, blurring the edges of chimneys and trees until everything seemed painted rather than real. Somewhere in the distance, a carriage wheel splashed through a puddle, and the faint echo of hooves drifted up the quiet street.
Inside the townhouse, the air still held the residue of the storm — cool, metallic, tinged with smoke.Serena stirred awake to the faint ticking of the hall clock and the soft crackle of embers dying in the hearth.
