Episode 108

The air in the small cottage, nestled within the protective embrace of the castle walls, was always warm, a perpetual summer held at bay by Vlad’s meticulous care. Amalie, no longer the fragile child he’d found, moved with a practiced grace that belied her crippled legs. She’d learned to navigate her world with a quiet resilience, her small hands, once trembling with fear, now deft as they wove intricate patterns into the fabric laid before her. The sunlight, filtering through the single, leaded window, cast dancing patterns on the floor, illuminating dust motes that swirled like tiny fairies in the stillness.

Vlad’s visits were infrequent, brief interludes in the vastness of his duties. He would enter the cottage with a soft tread, his imposing shadow momentarily eclipsing the gentle light. His gaze, usually sharp and commanding, would soften as it fell upon her. He never spoke much, his words scarce and gruff, but his presence was a comfort, a silent promise of safety. He would watch her, his eyes tracing the delicate lines of her face, the way her brow furrowed in concentration as she worked, the rare, soft smile that would grace her lips when she achieved a particularly intricate stitch.

Today, he brought a small wooden bird, its wings carved with exquisite detail. He placed it on the table beside her, his calloused fingers brushing hers as he did so. Amalie’s eyes widened, a spark of wonder igniting within them. She reached out, her touch tentative, tracing the smooth curve of its beak.