Lysander's Unease

The first rays of dawn, gilded and soft, always found me before the city stirred. They’d creep through the shutters of my small dwelling, a gentle caress on the worn wood of my desk, a silent promise of the day ahead. Aegis Reach, even in its slumber, held a hushed reverence, a testament to the gods and the people who called it home. My morning ritual was simple: a strong cup of herbal tea, the quiet contemplation of the day’s duties, and the comforting weight of responsibility settling onto my shoulders like a familiar cloak. It was a peace I’d fought hard for, a peace I guarded with every fiber of my being.

The clatter of a spoon against ceramic shattered the stillness, followed by a groan that was more theatrical than pained. “Stella, darling, are you trying to starve your best friend before the sun has even properly decided to grace us with its presence?”

Harper. Of course. My chosen sister, my partner in crime, my shadow and my light. She tumbled into the kitchen, a whirlwind of disheveled auburn hair and sleep-rumpled linen, her eyes, the color of a summer sky, still heavy with dreams. She flopped onto a chair opposite me, snatching a piece of honeyed fruit from the bowl.