Celtic Rose Book 6: Shelly The Maiden

Her alcove, tucked away in a quiet corner of the temple, was her sanctuary. It was a small space, barely larger than a sleeping nook, furnished with a low, sturdy table made from polished oak and a stool crafted from woven reeds. Against the wall, neatly stacked parchment scrolls - her meticulously kept records - waited for the day's entries. The air here smelled of parchment, ink, and the faintest hint of rosemary, a scent she associated with clarity and focus. She lit a small oil lamp, its fli