Eternal season

aks over the cobblestone streets. The gentle lapping of waves harmonized with the buzz of voices in the market square, where vendors called out their wares-honeyco

ria Sullivan. Writer, overthinker, and professional tea drinker." Kai chuckled. "Well, it's not every day a writer stumbles into my corner of the world. What brings you to Merrivale, Aria?" She shrugged, though her answer was carefully measured. "I needed a change of scenery. A place to think, away from the noise." He studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. "Then maybe you've come to the right place. Merrivale has a way of offering clarity-if you're willing to look for it." Aria felt a small smile tug at her lips. "And what about you? What's a photographer like you doing here?" Kai glanced around, his eyes drifting over the festival crowd. "Looking for stories to tell. The kind that can't be found anywhere else." Before Aria could respond, a burst of laughter from a nearby stall drew his attention. He turned back to her, slipping a small card into her hand. "I'm hosting a gallery tonight," he said. "It's nothing fancy, but if you're looking for more inspiration, stop by. I'd love to hear what a writer thinks of my work." He smiled again, a quick but genuine expression, before disappearing into the crowd. For a moment, Aria stood frozen, her gaze lingering on the card in her hand. It was simple, with an address scrawled in elegant handwriting. There was no name, no title-just a place and a time. The rest of the day passed in a blur of sights and sounds, but Aria's mind kept circling back to that brief conversation. Kai Alaric. There was something about him-a quiet confidence, a depth in his words that stirred something inside her. By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the town in hues of pink and orange, Aria had made up her mind. She would go to the gallery. The address led her to a narrow alleyway on the outskirts of the square. The soft glow of string lights illuminated the entrance, and the faint hum of music spilled into the street. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door. The space inside was small but inviting. Photographs adorned the walls, each lit by a single spotlight. Some were bold and vivid, others quiet and intros