Morning sunlight gently filtered through the thin curtains of Sylvia's old room, casting a warm pattern across the worn wooden floorboards that creaked with age. Sylvia opened her eyes slowly, allowing herself a few more moments of repose than usual. The air in the room still carried the scent of slightly damp old wood, but it felt comforting. The soft chirping of small birds outside the window added to the sense that the world was at peace at least, for this morning.
The aroma of wood smoke, herbal tea, and toasted bread tempted her senses all coming from the kitchen below, as it always did. For a moment, Sylvia closed her eyes again, imagining herself not as a queen or undead leader, not as the focal point of gods or mortals, but simply as Sylvia the stranger from another world who had once been lost and welcomed into this home.
But that reverie couldn't last long.
