After a few more minutes of walking past rows of manors, the group stopped in front of an imposing estate near the city center.
The gothic mansion loomed two stories high, crafted from dark gray stone that bore the subtle sheen of age and rain. Its red-tiled roofs curved gently at the edges, like the sloped wings of a dragon at rest.
An ornate golden gate framed the property, forged into swirling patterns that evoked flames and wings.
At the center, an aged brass plaque bore weathered yet elegant lettering, framed by engraved flames and a stylized dragon crest:
"Drachenstein Mansion
Sanctuary of the Lion's Wings"
They had arrived.
Laya lifted her chin with quiet pride. "Here we are, girls. Let's go."
She pressed her palm against the sigil on the gatepost. A soft golden light pulsed from within the metal, and with a low creak, the gate unlocked and slowly swung open.
Beyond it, a brick path wound gracefully through a lush garden alive with color. Crimson roses, white peonies, and delicate purple bellflowers crowded together in curated chaos. Neatly trimmed hedges flanked the walkway, and carved stone lanterns sat quietly beneath flowering trees.
The air shifted-cooler, stiller. The scent of lavender and rosemary mingled with subtler notes: parchment, tea, and the faint trace of old magic.
Archus, cradled in Laya's arms, blinked drowsily as the scents washed over him.
He could feel it-this place was different.
Once they stepped onto the path, the golden gate creaked shut behind them with a soft click. Rin glanced back, visibly relaxing once they were inside the mansion grounds.
"Every time I see this place, it still feels too grand for just the three of us," she murmured, her voice tinged with quiet wonder.
Laya smiled, a little wistful. "It was. But somehow we manage-even with just the three of us."
Lyndis gave a faint smile. "It may be tiresome... but it's home."
Rin let out a quiet laugh. "Still... Miss Laya, Miss Lyndis-don't you think a pair of extra hands could do wonders?"
The two sighed in unison.
Cradled in his mother's arms, Archus continuously watched. He couldn't help but wonder how they did it. The size of the estate, the garden, the sheer effort to keep it all running-it felt impossible. He resolved himself not to be a burden to them.
Even if it meant delaying his hunger.
They reached the grand doors. Laya pulled out a brass key and inserted it into the lock. With a soft groan, the doors opened.
Inside, the grand foyer greeted them with a sweeping staircase and polished wooden floors that gleamed faintly in the light from a crystal chandelier above. The scent of aged wood lingered in the air.
Rin gently shut the door behind them. "Miss Laya... Arch needs changing."
Laya blinked. "Right... I didn't even notice." She sighed gently. "Let's hurry and change him inside."
Archus groaned internally.
Not again...
He hated this part. No matter how hard he tried to control his body, it refused to obey him, still following the helpless rhythms of an infant.
These were the limits he couldn't overcome-not yet.
Damn this body, he thought. I can't even control when I soil myself.
It was humiliating. But for now, there was nothing he could do but endure it.
--
Laya carried Archus through the halls and into the living room and laid him gently on a table.
"Rin, fetch a pail of water, a basin, and a towel."
"Yes, Miss Laya!"
As the two women worked quickly to clean the baby, Lyndis glanced over, then turned away without a word.
"I'll start then," she murmured, retrieving a broom from the corner.
The rhythmic swish of bristles and the gentle dripping of water filled the space, blending into the quiet hum of the old mansion.
Laya nursed Archus afterward, cradling him in her arms with a tenderness that stirred something deep within him. Her warmth seeped into his bones, chasing away the lingering irritation from his earlier humiliation. Though his body was small and fragile, his mind was not. Somewhere beneath the sleepy haze of infancy, the man he once was remained-silent, watchful.
Her steady heartbeat and the gentle motion of her arms lulled him. The scent of her-lavender, faint traces of milk, and something uniquely Laya-wrapped around him like a familiar blanket.
He hated how easy it was to surrender to it. And yet, he could not resist.
His eyelids fluttered, too heavy to fight. His tiny hand, almost without thinking, grasped at her sleeve, clinging with the quiet desperation of someone who had once lost everything.
Laya's fingers gently brushed his hair aside as she began to hum-softly, aimlessly, like a memory wrapped in music.
Archus didn't understand the song, but the feeling behind it reached him all the same.
With a soft exhale, he drifted into sleep, the last remnants of thought fading beneath the comfort of her arms.
"Sleep well, my child."