A Keeper's Reckoning in the Twilight
The air in the Twilight Teahouse hummed with a quiet, timeless energy. Lanterns and candles cast a soft, warm light that pushed back the perpetual twilight outside the large window. The scent of various teas and herbs mingled in the air, a comforting and slightly mysterious blend. Behind the large, ornate tea counter, Elara Meadowlight, the proprietor, moved with a gentle grace, her auburn hair flowing around her. Her luminous green eyes held a sense of ancient wisdom, and a soft, ethereal melody played almost imperceptibly in the background, a tune only those attuned to the liminal space could truly hear. Elara paused in arranging a collection of pressed moon petal blossoms, her delicate fingers still. A subtle shift in the Teahouse's energy signaled an arrival, not the seamless appearing of some, but the more grounded presence of a soul navigating the transition by a more familiar route. Presently, a figure solidified at the threshold of the Teahouse's entrance, which manifes...
