Chapter 55: The Messenger
The peace was so deep, so woven into the daily rhythm of sun on garden stones and salt on the breeze, that the knock on the door sounded like a crack in the world.
It was late afternoon. Lyra was teaching Aurora the careful art of stacking smooth beach stones on the hearthrug, a lesson in balance and gentle hands. Kaelen was oiling the hinges of the newly reinforced chicken coop door. Elara was in the garden, humming as she harvested lavender, the scent clinging to her fingers like a morning blessing.
The knock came again not the cheerful, coded rap of Finn, nor Alis's firm, familiar rhythm. This was hesitant, heavy with unspoken weight.
