DENNY

The morning light draped itself lazily across Bjord, soft but cold, like the touch of a river in early spring.

I stood at the balcony of my guest room, staring out at the city. It wasn’t home, not even close, but damn… it had its own kind of beauty.

The tall spires cut through the mist, and the cobbled streets below were quiet, neat, disciplined, just like the people who lived here.

I breathed in deeply as if trying to trap the scent of the place in my chest before I left. I was ...