Sevika had never been one to celebrate her birthday after her parents had been maimed and brutally murdered—too much pain to remember, especially on a day that was supposed to be nothing but joy and laughter.

After getting home from her job in the council, Sevika took her red cloak off, discarding it somewhere unimportant before stalking her way over to her workbench.

An orange glow in her peripheral vision caught her attention, her eyebrows furrowed and jaw clenched, she made her way over to the glow.

A cake, on her workbench? Odd.

She walked closer, her eyes scanning over the icing. Happy Birthday, Sevika! it wrote, her eyebrows furrowed as she felt that unfamiliar feeling of nostalgia creeping up on her feelings. It was her birthday?