The dust was still settling, swirling lazily in the afternoon breeze like the remnants of a storm finally spent.
Tila stood at the edge of the crater—her crater—her breath steady, her hands no longer clenched into fists, her black eyes reflecting the vast emptiness where the orphanage had once loomed.
What remained was rubble and silence, scattered debris that whispered of destruction but promised renewal.
Open sky stretched behind her like a wound finally allowed to breathe, unscarred and infinite.
But Kael frowned, a subtle crease forming between his brows, his hazel eyes narrowing as he scanned her form.
Something was off—subtle, but undeniable.
A shift in the air around her, like the world itself was holding its breath.
Tila turned, locking eyes with him, her lips parting as if to speak, to share the quiet triumph blooming in her chest.
Then she blinked.
Her pupils shimmered for a second—too bright, too ethereal, like stars flickering out in a dying sky.
