Page 143 of Knot Your Fated M.U.S.E.

He gestures toward the door, hand extending to offer a small keypad.

"Care to do the honors? Code is 495813."

The significance of those first three numbers doesn't escape me – my patient designation transformed into key to freedom rather than mark of captivity.

The shadows hum appreciation of such subtle reclamation, their song carrying notes of approval for this small act of defiance against Ravenscroft's careful categorization.

"Thank you," I whisper, fingers steady as I input the code. The lock disengages with a soft click that sounds like possibility.

The interior steals my breath completely.

Where the outside promised rustic charm, the inside delivers perfect harmony between comfort and elegance. Exposed wooden beams stretch overhead, their rich color highlighted by carefully placed lighting that creates pools of warm illumination throughout the open space.

"Take your time exploring," Atlas encourages, moving toward what appears to be a modern control panel. "I'll adjust the temperature and settings. Make yourself at home."

Home.

The word echoes in my mind as I step further into this space that defies every expectation. A massive stone fireplace dominates one wall, its hearth lined with cushions that beg for quiet evenings spent in peaceful contemplation.

The furniture arranged around it speaks of careful consideration – deep cushions promising comfort while maintaining clean lines that please aesthetic sensibilities.

The kitchen flows seamlessly into the living area, all gleaming countertops and state-of-the-art appliances that somehow don't detract from the overall warmth of the space.

Everything serves both function and beauty, creating an environment that embraces rather than intimidates.

My fingers trail along smooth wooden surfaces as memories surface unbidden.

Ravenscroft's endless "training" included studying magazines filled with perfect interiors – supposed targets for future infiltration missions. They dangled such images like carrots before starving rabbits, promising freedom from experiments if we proved worthy of their trust.

False hope wrapped in glossy pages.

Empty promises bound in perfect photography.

Lies disguised as potential salvation.

But this space holds nothing of that artificial perfection.

Each room radiates genuine life rather than staged elegance. Signs of actual habitation mark corners and surfaces – a book left open on a side table, a jacket draped over a chair back, a half-empty coffee mug revealing morning routine.

New scents catch my attention as I move deeper into the house. Beyond the overall warmth of wood and leather, distinct aromas begin to separate themselves. My enhanced senses catalog each one with growing fascination:

Atlas's pine needles and mountain air.

Vale's rain-washed granite and wild mint.

Kieran's sandalwood and berries.

Dante's cinnamon and fresh-baked comfort.

The combination draws me forward like a beacon until I find myself before a partially open door. The scents pour strongest from this room, marking it as shared pack space rather than individual territory.

Stepping inside feels like entering a museum of lives well-lived. Medals catch afternoon light from their careful mounting – racing victories, athletic achievements, military honors all displayed with quiet pride. Framed certificates line another wall, speaking of academic excellence across multiple fields of study.

But it's the central photograph that captures my complete attention. Four young men in pristine military uniforms stand shoulder to shoulder, their postures parade-ground perfect while their expressions hold barely contained joy. The image must be at least a decade old, yet I recognize each face instantly:

Atlas stands tallest, his eyes visible and bright with unguarded optimism. The silk wrap that now shields damaged vision hasn't yet become necessary, allowing full view of extraordinary amber irises that seem to glow with inner fire.

Vale leans slightly against him, both legs strong and steady beneath his weight. No sign yet of the disease that would laterbetray his body, his smile carries pure confidence in future possibilities.

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