Aramith found himself in the library as usual, surrounded by towering bookshelves and the scent of old parchment. Across the room, Mozrael sat at a table, deeply engrossed in a book. He hesitated at the entrance, observing her for a moment. There was no flicker of acknowledgment, no glance in his direction—just the steady turn of pages. She was too engrossed in what she read.
He debated calling out to her, but before he could decide, a familiar voice chirped behind him.
"Aramith! You've been hiding here all morning." Kesha appeared beside him, a playful smirk on her lips. Before he could respond, she looped an arm around his and pulled him along. "Come on! I know a better place to relax."
Aramith sighed but didn't resist. Kesha's antics had become a daily occurrence, and he had long since learned that arguing was futile.
