"I should feel scared. I don't know these people, don't know this world. And yet… something in the way they smiled made me pause. Not like back home—those tight-lipped, polite smiles that never reached anyone's eyes. These were different. Real. Warm."
Morning crept in softly, like a whisper across silk. Pale golden light filtered through the ivy-draped window, casting dappled patterns on the uneven stone floor of the room. Lilith stirred beneath the moss-lined blanket, her lashes fluttering before her eyes blinked open slowly.
For a moment, she didn't move.
She simply lay there—still, quiet—trying to piece together where the dream ended and the day began. The bed was unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting. Not soft like her one back home, but warm in a different way, like it had held her through the night.
The scent of wildflowers lingered in the air, mingling with something sweet—honey? Magic? She couldn't tell anymore.
Her fingers reached toward the window's edge, brushing against the vine that curled along the sill, and something inside her shifted. She wasn't panicking. She wasn't afraid. Just... curious.
"Still here," she murmured to herself, voice barely louder than a breath.
Outside, a bird sang a single, haunting note, like it knew her story and had chosen to sing it back to her. She sat up slowly, letting the light catch in her hair, and glanced around the room—the flowers, the trinkets, the gentle pulse of everything foreign.
This world wasn't hers. Not yet. But as she placed her feet on the floor, she felt it—maybe today, she would learn how to walk in it.
Lilith had just placed her bare feet on the cool stone floor when the door creaked softly behind her. She turned, startled but not frightened, and saw Keira step into the room, her hair tousled with sleep and her eyes holding the softness of morning.
Keira paused for a second in the doorway, taking in Lilith bathed in golden light, strands of her hair catching the sun like copper threads. A smile tugged at her lips.
"You're up early," Keira said gently, her voice a whisper in the quiet room.
Lilith gave a shy nod. "I didn't mean to. I just… woke up."
Keira walked in, barefoot like her, holding two mismatched mugs with steam curling above them—her quiet offering. "I brought tea. Not sure what kind it is, but mom swore it helps clear the fog from your head. I thought... maybe we could start today soft."
Lilith reached for the mug, fingers brushing Keira's, and something passed between them—no magic, just the kind of understanding that made her heart feel a little more whole.
"Soft sounds nice," Lilith whispered.
Keira settled beside her on the edge of the bed. No rush. No pressure. Just morning light, quiet tea, and two lost girls beginning to be found.
Just as Lilith took a careful sip of her tea, the door swung open with a creak far louder than necessary. A gust of morning air swept in, carrying with it the scent of dew and wild mint.
Stella stood framed in the doorway, hair slightly tangled from sleep, wearing an oversized tunic that looked borrowed from someone taller. Her hands were on her hips, and her grin was unmistakably Stella—bright, unapologetic, and just a little bit dangerous.
"Well, look at that," she teased, stepping inside. "The lost girl survived the night. Barely even looks ruffled."
Keira rolled her eyes but smiled. "She's doing better than you, clearly."
Lilith glanced between them, unsure whether to laugh or hide. But then Stella plopped herself down on the floor beside the bed like she belonged there—as if she'd always belonged wherever she decided to sit.
"I made breakfast," Stella announced. "And by 'made,' I mean Angela cooked it and yelled at me to stop stealing things off the pan." She handed Lilith a small plate piled with golden rolls glistening with honey and herbs. "But this one," she winked, "I saved just for you."
Lilith looked down at the offering, then up at Stella, and something inside her unfurled. Not just comfort now—but connection. These weren't just strangers anymore. They were people who made space for her.
"I guess I'll eat," Lilith said, almost smiling.
"Great," Stella said. "We'll celebrate with a walk after. Nothing dramatic. Just a little bit of magical nonsense."
The hallway was lined with uneven stones and wild vines that peeked in from tiny cracks—living things that didn't seem to mind the intrusion of feet. Lilith followed Stella and Keira toward the kitchen, still clutching the mug of tea between her palms as if it anchored her.
Stella skipped ahead, her voice bouncing off the walls. "Angela's probably already halfway through the rolls. If we're lucky, there's still jam left. If not... I call dibs on blaming her."
Keira laughed softly, throwing Lilith a glance. "She does that even when it's clearly her fault."
Lilith smiled—quiet, tentative. The scent of spiced fruit and fresh bread drifted down the hall like a promise.
They stepped into the kitchen, where light pooled through arched windows and every surface looked lovingly cluttered. Bowls of steaming grains, honey-drizzled rolls, and sliced peaches glowed in morning light.
Angela stood near the counter, wiping jam from the corner of her mouth, frozen mid-guilt. "Okay, okay—I saved you the good stuff," she muttered, sliding a platter across the table with dramatic flair.
Stella dove in without hesitation. Keira chose calmly, offering Lilith a spoon and an encouraging smile. Lilith hesitated, then scooped a bit of peach and took a bite.
Sweet. Warm. Real.
Around her, laughter mixed with the clink of dishes and soft music playing from nowhere—perhaps from the walls themselves. And in that moment, Lilith didn't feel like the lost girl.
She felt welcome.
The kitchen buzzed with soft laughter and the scent of cinnamon and herbs. Lilith took another careful bite of peach, just as the back door burst open with a flurry of footsteps and indignation.
"Unbelievable!" cried Candice, her braid swinging behind her like a whip of protest. "You started breakfast without us?"
Sabrina followed close behind, clutching a half-buttoned jacket and looking deeply offended. "I heard clinking dishes. I thought I was dreaming. Turns out I was being betrayed."
Catherine, always quieter, trailed behind them with a crooked smirk. "To be fair, none of you got up when I knocked three times."
Stella raised her roll like a toast. "Not our fault you sleep like enchanted rocks."
Angela, already halfway through her second helping, shot a glance at the newcomers. "Look, it's called self-preservation. If Stella's awake, you run to the kitchen. Or starve."
Keira chuckled, gesturing toward the still-steaming dishes. "There's plenty. We saved some peaches. Barely."
Lilith watched them spill into the room, voices overlapping, teasing flying in every direction. Plates clattered. Someone snagged the jam. Rosa declared war over the last honey roll. And through it all, no one treated her like a stranger—not anymore.
She tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear and let herself smile.
So this was morning here—chaos, crumbs, and comfort..