The night on the Draven private island was unnervingly still. The sea, which had roared with chaos just days ago when insect beasts crawled out from nowhere, now breathed quietly against the sand. The Draven residence was filled with silence, broken only by the faint hum of cicadas and the occasional crash of waves in the distance.
Inside one of the guest rooms, dimly lit by a warm golden lamp, Lea lay nestled against Hugo's chest. She had cried herself into exhaustion earlier, her mint-scented pheromone trembling with sadness, heavy enough to weigh down the very air. Hugo had been there the entire time, holding her through the storm of emotions. Now, she had finally fallen asleep, her breathing shallow but steady, her delicate features softening in rest.
