55 A Portable Canvas? (2/3)

Elara's trip through the central district of Rivervale was nothing short of chaotic. The streets were bustling with the morning rush, filled with villagers who seemed to have taken it upon themselves to offer her a chorus of "good mornings." Each greeting, as warm and cheerful as it was, fell on deaf ears.

Elara was a woman on a mission, her focus so intense that the world around her seemed to blur into a whirlwind of colors and sounds. Her face, smeared with paint from the night's fervent attempts at decoding the secrets of her locket, was a testament to her desperation. The locket itself, clenched tightly in her hand, seemed to be the only anchor she had in the storm that was her thoughts.

As the door slammed open, Agatha jumped in surprise behind her counter. Her hand flew to her chest as she regained her composure and turned to see who had caused such a disturbance.