"Elisa! I can't believe you would do something like this!" Her father's voice boomed.
It felt foreign and frightening; the echo of his anger reverberated off the walls.
Shock ran through her like ice, more piercing than the sharpest dagger. She had never before heard her father raise his voice, not even when she had tried to summon a cloud or create a flower that turned to stone.
"I—I didn't do it!," Elisa stammered, her heart pounding like a drum. In her small hand, she clutched her dress.
But instead of offering comfort, it felt heavy now, like a weight dragging her spirit down.
But, truth be told, there was no push, no nudge; the woman had tripped over her own feet, but in her flustered state, she had screamed accusations, and even pointing a finger at Elisa before she passed away.
Maggie rallied, worried and quick to judge, and master smith believed her. Elisa's heart sank as her father's disappointment grew.
