|| Richard ||
I stood by the door, silent as a shadow, masking my scent. The dim candlelight flickered across the room, casting long, wavering silhouettes on the stone walls. The scent of aged wood and smoldering wax lingered in the air, but beyond that, there was her— the scent of something wilder, something untamed.
Penelope sat on the edge of the bed, her back to me, her posture still — too still. It was an eerie kind of stillness, the kind that belonged to someone lost between worlds, neither here nor there. A thin piece of fabric draped loosely over her shoulders, slipping slightly, revealing the smooth curve of her spine, the delicate slope of her shoulder blades. Her golden hair cascaded over her back in soft waves, unruly yet elegant, like the storm she carried within her.
B
