Isla was utterly drained. The weight of everything she had experienced—strange, inexplicable magic intertwined with moments of undeniable wonder—had siphoned away every last drop of her energy. Her body ached with fatigue, and her mind felt like a tangled mess of unanswered questions and fleeting moments of clarity.

She had considered leaving London countless times, abandoning the city with all its mysteries and shadows, turning her back on the chaos that had consumed her life. But she couldn’t. Not while her brother still needed her. He was the tether keeping her grounded, the faint light guiding her through an otherwise impenetrable fog.

Now, she sat hunched over her desk, her tired eyes fixed on the faint glow of her laptop screen. A half-empty cup of coffee sat nearby, its contents long gone cold. Beside it, an empty teacup lingered as a remnant of an earlier attempt at comfort—one that had done little to soothe her frayed nerves.

The faint hum of the city beyond her window served as a reminder that life continued outside these four walls, uncaring and relentless. But for Isla, time felt suspended in this small, cluttered space—a fragile bubble where exhaustion, responsibility, and reluctant determination coexisted.