The dawn spread its warm light across Glazon, casting a serene glow over the village nestled by the sea. The witches stirred with the day's early tasks, their movements deliberate, as if the morning held a sacred tranquility. The air was crisp, carrying with it the scent of salt from the seas, and a sense of purpose that hung over the island like a comforting shroud. The village, ever vibrant with its spell-bound lanterns and enchanted flora, hummed with the quiet murmur of magic in the air.
Alita paused at the edge of the village square, breathing in the fresh sea air. Her eyes drifted toward the horizon, where the sea met the sky in a seamless blend of blue, and a soft smile played on her lips. There was peace in these moments before the world fully awoke, before duty called her back into the fold of the village's endless demands.