The morning rose pale and uncertain over the De Luca estate, its light filtering softly through the courtyard as though even the sun hesitated to touch what remained after the night before, the air still carrying the faint scent of ash and iron that refused to fade.
Elara stood near the center of the courtyard, her posture composed, her expression calm, yet beneath that stillness something hollow lingered, something quiet and unyielding that no outward strength could disguise.
Her gaze rested upon the worn stone beneath her feet, though she did not truly see it, for her thoughts drifted elsewhere, pulled back again and again to echoes that refused to remain silent.
Screams.
Fragments.
Moments that came unbidden and sharp.
Her fingers curled slightly at her sides.
"We survived," she said softly, her voice even, though the words carried a weight that did not match their simplicity, her breath steady as she forced them into something controlled.
