Sunlight slowly peeked through the window, spilling across the room in soft golden streaks.
Oriana's eyes opened gradually. She stretched beneath the blankets, rolling gently to one side as her arms extended wide. A yawn escaped her lips, followed by a soft series of small cracks in her shoulders and fingers. She blinked a few times, trying to adjust to the brightness.
Slowly, she turned her head, scanning the room as though trying to recall where she was.
Then it hit her.
Memories of the previous night came rushing back—sharp and vivid, like waves crashing all at once.
She sat up abruptly.
Zaroth was not there.
And surprisingly, Layla, the one who usually woke her—had not come either. Oriana exhaled softly as she came to a conclusion.
It must have been Zaroth who informed the servants not to disturb her. Layla would never have allowed her to sleep this long otherwise.
But… where was Zaroth?
Her gaze drifted toward the ticking clock.
She froze.
Then she gasped.
