A New Home

Naya pressed her face against the wooden cart's side as Athens came into view. The city sprawled below like a marble dream, white temples gleaming on the Acropolis while the agora buzzed with traders and citizens.

"Look at it all," she whispered to her father beside her.

"Your new home," he said, adjusting his traveling cloak. "Master Alexios runs the finest sculpture workshop in the city. You'll learn much there."

The cart wheels clattered over stone streets lined with olive vendors and pottery sellers. Naya's heart raced. Back in her small village, she'd only carved simple figures from soft wood when no one was watching. Here, surrounded by marble statues of gods and heroes, her secret felt bigger somehow.

"Will I really be helping a master sculptor?" she asked.

Her father nodded. "He needs an apprentice's assistant. Someone clever with their hands."

Naya touched the small wooden bird hidden in her travel bag. Soon she'd discover if her hidden talent meant anything in this grand city.

The Workshop's Welcome

The workshop door creaked open, revealing shelves lined with marble figures and bronze tools. Master Alexios looked up from his workbench, his weathered hands covered in white dust.

"You must be Naya," he said, wiping his palms on his apron. "Welcome to my workshop."

A young man emerged from behind a half-finished statue, his dark curls catching the morning light streaming through the windows. Naya's breath caught as their eyes met—his were the color of deep amber, warm and focused.

"This is Damon, my apprentice," Master Alexios continued. "He'll show you around."

Damon stepped forward, a shy smile crossing his face. "I've been looking forward to having help. There's always so much to organize."

As he gestured toward the marble blocks, his sleeve brushed against Naya's arm. Her heart fluttered in a way she'd never felt before.

"What's that?" Damon asked, noticing the wooden bird peeking from her bag.

Naya quickly tucked it away. "Nothing important."

But Damon's curious expression suggested he thought otherwise. In the corner, a sparrow chirped from its perch on the windowsill, as if echoing her secret.