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The wind whispered gently through the Redemption Village, carrying with it the scent of mountain herbs and the distant clatter of laughter from children playing. The place was unlike any Jacinta had seen in the empire—simple yet peaceful, brimming with life carved out from pain. It was a home built from broken pieces, stitched together with hope.
Nanny Giselda sat on a wooden bench outside a modest house adorned with bundles of dried flowers, protective charms made of copper and thread, and wind chimes that tinkled softly in the afternoon breeze. The home was humble but well cared for, a reflection of the woman who had made a life here after being cast aside by the palace.
