The Arven sun had already passed its zenith when Damon pushed open the heavy wooden door and entered the house he had just bought. The creak of the hinges echoed throughout the interior, raising a cloud of dust that made him cough immediately.
"Fantastic…" he muttered, waving his hand in front of his face. "I bought a damn dustbin."
The light streaming through the tall windows revealed the neglected interior—peeling walls, old furniture covered with sheets, cobwebs occupying the corners as if they were part of the decor. The wooden floor creaked with every step, and the air carried that dense, sweet smell of a place locked up for a long time.
Damon set the bundle he was carrying on the floor and looked around, assessing the space.
