The night did not end as nights were meant to, for the darkness lingered long after its hour had passed, clinging to the edges of the world like a stubborn stain, refusing to yield even as the first pale light of dawn crept hesitantly across the horizon.
Elara stood where the shadow had last touched her, her posture steady though the weight of what she had seen still lingered beneath her skin, her breath slow and deliberate as if she measured each inhale against the echo still haunting her bones.
The courtyard lay quiet around her, yet it was not peace that settled there, but a fragile stillness, the kind that came before storms, the kind that whispered of something vast approaching with patience rather than haste.
Her fingers moved slightly at her sides, not trembling now but remembering, as though the body itself held knowledge that the mind had yet to fully accept.
"…this isn't over," Alessandro said, his voice low, carrying through the silence without breaking it.
