Aire stepped into the gardens immediately after breakfast. She was the only one at breakfast, as the Alohas and King Elijah had pressing matters to attend to, and she had no idea where Mabel went.
The air outside felt different from the corridors. It was softer, with endless fresh ait. It carried the faint scent of damp earth and blooming petals, brushing gently against her skin as though welcoming her.
For a moment, she simply stood there.
Her gaze lifted.
The gardens stretched wide before her. Carefully tended, but not rigid. The flowers bloomed in clusters, not rows. Colors spilled into each other, soft pinks, pale yellows, and deep violets—like the land itself had decided how it wished to be seen.
Aire exhaled quietly.
Beside her, Marsali hesitated.
The little girl's fingers curled into the edge of her dress as she looked around, her eyes wide with something that wasn't quite fear.
The look in her eyes were closer to disbelief.
"This is…" she started, then stopped.
