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When she pulled back, she pressed a package wrapped in shiny paper into Seren's hands.

"For you. A welcome home gift," she said simply.

Seren blinked, looking down. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unwrapped the package.

Inside was a Nikon D850, sleek and powerful.

The feel of it in her hands was amazing.

Her breath hitched.

She looked up at Astrid, speechless.

"I know about your love for photography," Astrid said, her voice warm, almost conspiratorial. "There is a teacher in school who is also interested. He would like to teach you...if you like."

Something inside Seren unfurled, something small but hopeful. She nodded enthusiastically, like the child she was.

She ran her fingers over the camera, anticipating the familiar escape it would give her.

For the first time since she had arrived, she felt a spark of excitement.

Hagan was the first to turn and leave.

Seren didn't watch him go.

She was still staring at the Oracle, her face lighting up with a bright smile.

"Come," the older woman said gently, leading her back inside.

Chapter 24

Seren

The stairs creaked softly beneath their steps as the Oracle led Seren up to a small loft tucked beneath the slanted roof.

Seren stood in the doorway of her new room, her breath caught somewhere between disbelief and quiet relief.

The loft bedroom was small but warm, the slanted wooden beams above her head adding a sense of hidden sanctuary. The bed, tucked against the far wall, was covered in a soft quilt, its checkered patterns cheerful in a way that made something in her chest ease.

But it wasn't just the bed.

To one side of the room, built beneath the eaves, stood a set of haphazardly filled bookshelves. The shelves were crammed with old, well-loved books, some stacked horizontally, others shoved in at odd angles. The scent of aged paper and ink mingled with the lingering traces of lavender and herbs from the Oracle's presence.

And next to the bedroom—

A small ensuite bathroom.

Seren peeked inside, surprised. The stone sink, the antique brass fixtures, the deep, clawfoot tub—everything about it was unexpectedly thoughtful, a quiet luxury she hadn't anticipated.

She turned back toward the large window, where the view was something out of a dream.

The branches of a cherry tree stretched so close that she could almost touch them if she leaned forward. Its delicate blossoms quivered with the wind, a soft pink against the twilight sky.

A red squirrel skittered across the swaying branches, pausing briefly to twitch its tail before darting off again, disappearing into the leaves.

Seren exhaled slowly, pressing a hand to the windowsill.

It felt—peaceful.