The royal carriage moved slowly, leaving the marketplace behind, its rhythmic tremor seemingly trying to soothe the shaken souls within. Behind the velvet curtain, three women sat in a formation that reflected their fates: Morfida, the loyal maid with wrinkles of worry etched on her forehead; Sunny, a young girl with dull brown hair whose body was still shaking violently; and Althea, whose gaze was vacant as she stared out the window, her mind racing.
Outside, the world rolled by in muted colors, the cobblestones wet from the recent rain, the merchants packing up their stalls, the faint echo of horseshoes clattering against the uneven road. It was a calm scene, yet inside the carriage, the air was heavy with silence and the lingering scent of fear.
