The castle garden was silent, wrapped in that deceptive calm that only existed in places where war had not yet touched the surface... but had already taken root underneath. The afternoon light fell in golden tones upon the stone paths, filtering through the high branches of ancient trees that surrounded the place like silent guardians. The air smelled of damp earth, of open flowers, and something more subtle... something that reminded one of home, although for Eliza that concept was becoming increasingly diffuse.
Seated on one of the carved concrete benches—cold even under the sun—Eliza held an open book in her hands. A romance novel. The pages were slightly bent by her fingers, but her eyes didn't follow the lines. Not really. Her gaze passed over the words without stopping, without comprehending them, as if her mind refused to anchor itself to something as simple as a love story when her own had become... impossible to name.
Her eyes were dim.
