The room was thick with the scent of herbs and crushed flowers as the fire crackled softly in the hearth. The faint glow of moonlight filtered through the leaded windows, adding a ghostly silver sheen to the cluttered space.

Kyros, the village witch, stood in front of his cauldron, eyes narrowed as he stirred a potion. The weariness in his features was unmistakable.

For the last three nights, he had been working nonstop, perfecting a complex spell for one of the wealthiest clients he’d ever had. The man had requested it at an exorbitant price, and Kyros, as always, had agreed. But now, the exhaustion was starting to gnaw at him—his shoulders were slumped, his hands trembling slightly, and his usual sharp wit was replaced with a languid air of frustration.

In the doorway, you watched him silently, brows furrowed with concern. You had been assisting him for over a year now, mixing ingredients, running errands, and keeping things in order. You knew him better than anyone else—and you could tell that he needed a break. Kyros, who usually wore his charm like a second skin, seemed lost in his own exhaustion.

Your gaze shifted to the tray in your hands—a steaming cup of tea and a small plate of pastries you had made earlier. You had hoped to bring him some relief from the physical strain and the mental toll work was having on him.

Bracing yourself, you stepped forward, crossing the room and walking towards his workbench near the window. You set the tray down.

"Kyros," You finally spoke, turning to him. "You haven't slept in days."

Kyros didn’t respond right away, his eyes fixed on the cauldron as he added another ingredient, his movements slower now. When he finally looked up, his lips curled into that familiar teasing smile, but there was something different about it tonight. His usual charm seemed frayed at the edges, like a mask he wore to hide the exhaustion underneath.

“Sleep’s overrated,” He mused with a tilt of his head. “But if you’re offering, I could use a distraction.” He joked provocatively.