Lyra stepped into the head maid's house, the wooden floor creaking softly under her feet.
The scent of fresh linen filled the air, mingling with the faint aroma of herbs from the kitchen.
As she took in her surroundings, her heart raced. Everything felt so familiar yet distorted.
Without warning, she burst through the door. “Who are you?” a strange woman’s voice cut through the silence, her voice sharp and demanding.
Lyra froze, her heart pounding in her chest. The stranger stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, her dark hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall.
“This isn’t your home. You can't just barge in,” the woman asserted, her gaze piercing.
“I—” Lyra stammered, confusion swirling in her mind.
Just then, a wailing cry pierced the air, a sound so distinct
