Vineyards, Castles, and Mosquito Bites

From were I was seating the room seemed to hold its breath. The air, thick with anticipation, clung to the wooden beams of the ceiling. We were gathered around the polished oak table, its surface marred by centuries of discussions, laughter, and tears. Today, it bore witness to a decision that would ripple through our family like a stone cast into a tranquil pond.

Zephara's mothers sat side by side, their expressions a mirror of concern. Ava's attack had left their castle in ruins, its once-sturdy walls now crumbling, like the remnants of a forgotten dream. They had nowhere to call home until the repairs were complete. The weight of their predicament hung heavily in the room, casting shadows across their faces.