The afternoon sun hung low in the sky, casting long, eerie shadows as the carriage carrying Lydia and Helena made its slow approach toward Critic Arley. After a week of journeying, they were finally nearing home, but the city that welcomed them now was far from the lively, vibrant place they remembered.
Helena, her eyes tired but alert, leaned closer to the window, frowning as she took in the unsettling quiet of the streets. "It's… strange, isn't it?" she murmured, almost as if speaking any louder would disturb whatever fragile balance lay over the city.
Lydia, her face softening at the sight of familiar streets, turned to her sister. "Strange?" she asked, but her mind was elsewhere.
The thought of seeing her husband, Theodore, after so long filled her heart with warmth. She could already imagine his embrace, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes when he saw her again.