The orchard was quiet, the morning sunlight drifting lazily through the branches, glinting off the dew damp leaves. Liora stood alone, broom in hand, sweeping the courtyard absentmindedly. Her powers pulsed faintly under her skin, a quiet ember she kept secret. She felt stronger with each passing day.
She inhaled, the air thick with the smell of apples and earth. The ember under her skin shivered, a subtle reminder that she was not powerless. Her hands trembled slightly, not from fear, but from anticipation, a desire she didn't fully understand, a hunger she hadn't fed.
"Just a little more," she whispered to herself, sweeping with careful, deliberate strokes.
