Facade's Deal

The scent of baking bread usually filled Grandma Neli's kitchen with warmth and comfort, a symbol of the kind and gentle woman the village had come to adore.

Yet today, her movements were slower, dull, and mechanical. The cheerfulness that usually radiated from her seemed drained, replaced by a weariness that clung to her like the flour dusting her apron.

She stared at the dough beneath her hands, kneading it with less vigor than usual. Her lips pressed into a thin line, thoughts swirling behind her tired eyes.

The oven crackled faintly, its warmth doing little to chase away the cold settling over the room.

A shadow flickered near the door, subtle yet palpable.

"You always linger in places you aren't wanted," Neli said without turning, her voice flat.

A cloaked figure stepped forward, emerging from the shadows as if birthed by them.

The cloak rippled unnaturally, shimmering like oil on water.