[EXT. VILLAGE SKY – MORNING]

The screen opens with a gorgeous, calm sky. Light blue stretches wide, dotted with soft cotton clouds that drift lazily across the canvas. Birds chirp sweetly in the distance, and a warm breeze rustles through the trees.

[INT. Lyria’s Bedroom]

We see Lyria curled up in bed, the faintest snore slipping past her lips. Her blanket’s all tangled, hair like a white halo across the pillow. She’s the picture of peace and cuteness.

[CLOSE-UP on her face]
Her ears twitch slightly. She mutters something in her sleep:

“Mmm... magic jam… floaty pancakes...”

SUDDENLY – BOOOOM!

A loud bang-crash-THUNK echoes from downstairs, followed by a clatter of metal and something that sounds suspiciously like a chicken squawk (even though there’s no chicken in this house?!).

Lyria bolts upright — her hair a wild mess, one eye open.

“...Was that an explosion? Or breakfast?”

She rubs her eyes, yawns, and tiptoes her way to the wooden staircase. Each step creaks under her bare feet as she peers down into the kitchen...

[CAMERA WHIP-PANS TO KITCHEN]

And there she is — Lyria’s mom — standing frozen like a statue in the middle of chaos.

Cake batter everywhere. On the walls. On the floor. And most of all — coating her face entirely, dripping from her nose like frosting tears.

Her hair's sticking out at odd angles, a cracked egg sliding slowly down one strand.

Lyria just stares. Mouth open. In awe.

“...Mama?”

[PAUSE. COMEDIC SILENCE.]

Then — BAM!

Her father enters from the back door, holding a basket of herbs.

“What was that noi—?!”

He stops mid-sentence, eyes landing on the scene.

A beat.

And then he bursts into laughter — the kind of deep, uncontrollable, belly-holding dad laughter.

“Pffffft—HAAHAHA! Oh, stars above! You look like a battle-hardened dessert!”

Lyria’s mom slowly turns her head to face him, eyes narrowed under the veil of cake.

“You think this is funny?”

She scoops a handful of batter off her own face — slowly. Deliberately. It drips from her fingers like a warning shot.

“Because I can make it funnier.”

Before he can even react — SMACK!
Right in the face.

BAM! Now Lyria’s dad’s face is completely covered, batter sliding off his nose like a melting ice sculpture.

He stands frozen, then blinks.

“...I regret nothing.”

Lyria’s mom bursts out laughing. The serious face cracks — and she just starts cackling like a schoolgirl. The whole kitchen shakes with her laughter.

Lyria finally stumbles down the stairs, half-laughing, half-confused.

“Mama?? Papa?? What kind of spell went wrong in here?!”

Her dad, still frosted like a wedding cake:

“I call it... Exploding Happiness."

Her mom giggles, flicking a bit of batter at Lyria too.

“If you're awake, you help clean!”

“WHAT?!”

“But I just woke up from a peaceful dream about jam!”

[CAMERA PULLS OUT – THROUGH THE WINDOW]

We see the family laughing together in the sunlit kitchen, framed by flowers and wood and the smell of fresh magic and mischief. This is the kind of morning that imprints on your soul — a moment that says: this is home.