<h4>Chapter 672: Visiting Grandma</h4>


    <strong>Evaline:</strong>


    The morning air felt different. It was colder, quieter, almost... expectant.


    By the time the car came to a stop, I had already looked out the window at least five times, trying to take in my surroundings properly.


    "This is it, My Lady," Mr. Wood said gently.


    I nodded, my gaze lingering on the house ahead.


    It stood at the very edge of the packnds, far from the bustle of the main town and tucked away in a quiet stretch where the trees grew thicker and the world seemed to hush itself. Snow nketed the ground here too, but unlike the rest of the pack, it felt untouched... almost forgotten.


    And yet... there was something undeniably cozy about it - a small house, warm-toned wood, smoke curling faintly from the chimney.


    Mr. Wood stepped out and picked the gift bags from the car before handing them to me.


    "Shall I return by noon, then?" he asked.


    "Yes," I replied, adjusting my grip on the bags. "I’ll message you if anything changes."


    He nodded once. "Very well."


    I watched as the car drove away, the sound of the engine fading into the quiet until all that remained was the soft crunch of snow beneath my boots.


    For a moment, I just stood there, taking it in.


    Then I walked forward. Up the short path, onto the porch, and rang the doorbell.


    There was a brief pause before I heard footsteps approaching. And the next moment, the door was pulled open.


    Charles stood there.


    As his gazended on me, he froze. His face was full of shock for a moment before it lit up with excitement.


    "Sister, you finally came!"


    I couldn’t help but smile. "I said I would."


    He stepped aside quickly. "Come in,e in. It’s freezing out here."


    Warmth wrapped around me the moment I stepped inside, along with the faint scent of candles and something sweet... like baked goods.


    "Grandma!" Charles called out. "She’s here!"


    "I can hear just fine, you know," a voice responded from deeper inside the house.


    I barely had time to react before she appeared.


    Charles’s grandmother.


    And instantly, I understood everything he had ever said about her.


    She was small, her frame slightly bent with age, but there was a brightness in her eyes that made her feel... alive in a way that had nothing to do with youth.


    "Ah," she said, smiling warmly. "So this is Evaline."


    I stepped forward instinctively. "It’s so nice to finally meet you."


    "And you," she said, reaching out to gently pat my hand. "I have heard a lot about you."


    I shot Charles a quick nce.


    He looked entirely unashamed as he whispered loud enough for entire house to hear. "Only good things."


    "Of course," she hummed.


    I held out the bags. "I brought a few things for you."


    "Oh, you didn’t have to-"


    "They are for grandma," I said quickly, cutting Charles off before he could protest.


    He opened his mouth anyway and I gave him a look that shut him up.


    His grandmother chuckled softly as she epted the bags. "Oh my, what have you brought?"


    "Just small things," I said. "Some tonics... scarves... a few homemade items."


    "Homemade?" she repeated, intrigued.


    "Cookies," I admitted. "Hand cream and candles. Since I’m good with herbs, I used some that are good for health."


    Her expression softened even more, if that was possible, and she said, "You are a thoughtful one."


    Heat crept into my cheeks.


    "Thank you."


    The next few hours passed... easily.


    Surprisingly so.


    I helped in the kitchen despite both of them insisting I sit and rest.


    "I didn’te here to be served," I told them.


    "And we didn’t invite you to work," Charles shot back.


    I ignored him and picked up a knife.


    His grandmotherughed and the said, "She’ll fit right in."


    Cooking together felt... natural. Comforting. Like I had done it a hundred times before.


    We talked - about small things, academy, Charles and his studies, and other simple things.


    Grandma didn’t ask much about my family or background probably because Charles might have informed her about me being a rogue.


    And I was grateful for that since I didn’t want to lie.


    Lunch was warm and filling, the kind of meal that settled deep in your bones.


    Afterward, Charles insisted on showing me the meadows behind the house.


    "They are better in spring," he said as we walked, "but winter has its own charm."


    He wasn’t wrong.


    The snow stretched endlessly, soft and untouched, the trees standing like silent guardians at the edges.


    It was beautiful.


    Peaceful.


    I breathed in deeply, letting the crisp air fill my lungs. "This is amazing," I said.


    "Told you," he grinned.


    We walked for a while. Talked. Laughed. And yet, somewhere in the back of my mind... something stirred. It was like a faint unease, like a whisper I couldn’t quite hear.


    I frowned slightly.


    "What is it?" Charles asked.


    "Nothing," I said quickly. Because it was nothing. Probably. I shook it off as we headed back soon after.


    The warmth of the house weed us both, along with the scent of chocte.


    "Perfect timing," his grandmother said from the kitchen. "I just made hot chocte."


    "That smells amazing," I said, slipping off my coat.


    "It tastes even better," she assured me.


    We sat together, the three of us with cups in hand. The chocte was rich, creamy...forting.


    I took another sip. Then another. And for a moment, everything felt... fine.


    But then, that feeling returned... stronger this time.


    I shifted slightly in my seat.


    "You alright?" Charles asked.


    "Yeah," I said, though my voice came out softer than I intended. The room felt... warmer.


    Too warm.


    My fingers tightened slightly around the cup.


    "I think I should leave now," I said and tried to stand up, but failed as the edges of my vision blurred for just a second.


    I blinked. Once. Twice.


    "What-"


    I tried to focus.


    But something wasn’t right.


    The unease twisted into something heavier. Darker.


    My heartbeat slowed. Or maybe it sped up. I couldn’t tell.


    The room tilted, just slightly.


    "Child, are you alright?" Grandma’s voice sounded distant, like it wasing from far away.


    I opened my mouth to respond, but the words didn’te.


    The cup slipped from my fingers, but I didn’t even feel it hit the ground. The warmth, the light, everything else started to fade.


    Darkness crept in from the edges of my vision, swallowing everything whole.


    And thest thing I felt... was that wrongness finally settling into something certain, something real.


    Before the world wentpletely ck.


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