THE TRUTH OF DARK PAST

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the soft glow of the fireplace and a few scattered candles along the walls. The scent of old books, faintly burnt wood, and freshly brewed coffee filled the air. The silence was thick, heavy with unsaid words and unasked questions.

James walked in, his usual carefree smirk subdued for once, and handed Acantha a warm cup of coffee. His fingers brushed hers briefly, and for the first time since they had known each other, Acantha offered him a faint, almost fragile smile. Her fingers curled around the mug, seeking the warmth as much as the comfort.

Adrianna sat quietly by the window, her fingers laced tightly in her lap, eyes flickering between Acantha and Alaric. Alaric stood with his arms folded across his chest, leaning against the stone wall, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp, waiting.

The room was so quiet that the faint crackle of the fire sounded like a storm.