Her mouth watered on instinct.
The scent wasn't there, but her memory filled it in perfectly—savory broth, soft meat melting in her mouth, warm enough to bring tears to her eyes.
She inched forward without realizing.
And then—
A voice cut through the air, soft but commanding.
"Who are you guys?"
It belonged to an old man—
Gentle in tone, but with a weight behind it that made her freeze in place.
Kaya looked down at the old man standing before her.
He was slightly hunched with age, yet somehow still stood tall enough to meet her eyes. Thick, pure white wool wrapped around his neck like a soft mantle of snow—so pristine it seemed untouched by time or dust. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, posture calm and composed, the kind only years of quiet leadership could mold.
His eyes—though dulled by age—still held a sharpness beneath the greying hue, as if he could see far more than what lay in front of him.
And the moment his gentle but firm voice echoed—
