Ashen Keep Chapel
The chapel was small.
Not the grand hall where the Council met, not the briefing room with its maps and cold light. This was a side chamber, tucked away behind the armory, used for quiet things. Funerals. Memorials. The moments between battles when there was nothing left to do but remember.
Alistair had asked for no ceremony. No flags. No official notice. Voss was still a fugitive in the records. The Council wouldn't have approved.
But he didn't ask them.
He asked the team.
They came in without speaking. Cora stood near the door, her arms crossed. Mason leaned against the far wall, his gauntlets off for once. Sera sat on a wooden bench, her hands folded in her lap. Derek stood beside her, his staff planted, his ghosts tucked close.
Lucian sat apart.
He was in the back row, near the shadow of a pillar. His jacket was still torn from the blast. He hadn't changed. He hadn't slept.
