The evening descended not with peace but with a quiet tension that wrapped itself around the estate, the fading gold of the sky casting long shadows that seemed to linger longer than they should, as though reluctant to withdraw.
Elara stood at the center of the war room, her posture upright, her presence composed, though the stillness within her carried a weight that no longer resembled hesitation but something far sharper.
The table before her lay scattered with maps, markings drawn in careful lines, though her gaze did not linger on them long, as though what she sought could not be found upon paper alone.
Around her, the pack gathered in silence, each bearing the marks of survival, each holding themselves with a readiness that had replaced exhaustion, though not erased it.
"…we wait," Luca said.
His tone was steady.
Elara did not answer immediately.
