Once again, I found myself at the Zyran estate, a fortress of opulence and intimidation. The air around it seemed colder, heavier, as if it wanted to crush any trace of rebellion before it even began. I adjusted the modest hem of my dress, resisting the urge to fidget. I wasn’t going to let this house—or its people—consume me.

The sitting room I was led into was just as grand as the last one I’d visited, all polished wood and gleaming marble. I perched on the edge of an ornate chair, my back straight and hands folded tightly in my lap. I could feel the weight of invisible eyes, scrutinizing, judging, but I refused to let them see me crack.