Kael's Insight

Kael found Elara by the old well, its stones worn smooth by centuries of hands drawing water. The afternoon sun slanted through the ancient oak trees, dappling the ground with gold. He’d been watching her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes, and now he approached, his worn boots crunching on fallen leaves.

“Doctor Vance,” he said, his voice low, almost a whisper. “I saw you earlier, near the kitchens. Looking for answers?”

Elara turned, a faint frown creasing her brow. She’d been sketching the strange arrangement of herbs Dubois had left behind, trying to decipher their placement, their very essence. “I am,” she admitted, her gaze sharp. “And you are Kael, aren’t you? The one who helps with the market stalls?”