The medical wing held a different kind of silence, one that did not echo with absence alone but with waiting, with breaths measured and fragile, with lives suspended between what had been and what might yet remain.
Elara stepped inside without haste, though each movement carried a weight that did not show in her posture, her gaze already fixed upon the bed at the far end of the room as though nothing else existed within those walls.
The faint scent of antiseptic lingered in the air, sharp and clean, yet it did nothing to mask the deeper truth that lay beneath it, the quiet battle that had not ended with the war outside.
Her steps slowed as she drew nearer, her fingers brushing lightly against the edge of a nearby table as though grounding herself against something steady before she reached the place she both feared and needed to stand.
