Chapter 128: Lia and Sophia
Lia’s house wasn’t secluded or eerie—it was a good, well-kept home nestled between two artisan families in the heart of the town, its stone fences and bright window shutters glowing softly in the moonlight.
Flowerbeds hung from wrought-iron hooks, their petals swaying in the evening breeze.
The front porch smelled faintly of cinnamon and spell chalk, and when Lia unlocked the door, the quiet hum of warding spells faded to a soft tone, welcoming them inside.
The interior was cozy and warm.
Books were stacked haphazardly on side tables, woven rugs softened the wooden floors, and a fireplace flickered low, casting a golden glow across the room.
They moved through the foyer and up to Lia’s room on the second floor, their steps quiet on the creaking stairs.
Her room was surprisingly tidy—simple sheets on a narrow bed, high bookshelves crammed with texts, alchemical diagrams half-finished on parchment rolls scattered across a wide desk, and a soft lamp burning lavender oil in a glass vial, its scent mingling with the faint musk of their earlier tension.
"I’ll make tea," Lia said, setting her bag down, her red curls bouncing as she moved, her curvy figure swaying under her skirt, her green eyes bright but nervous.
A few minutes later, she returned with a ceramic tray, placing it on the floor between them—three small teacups steaming with herbal warmth, a plate of shortbread cookies, slightly overbaked but clearly homemade, their buttery scent filling the room.
Sophia took a bite, her blonde twin tails swaying, her blue eyes sharp but hesitant as she chewed, her petite frame cross-legged on the floor.
Lor didn’t touch anything, his hazel eyes already on the space between them, his lean frame tense.
Sophia swallowed, her small breasts rising with a quick breath. "Can you ask it now?"