Ren felt satisfaction in his heart.
It was not relief, nor hope. It was something calmer, heavier. The kind that settles in once you stop fighting the truth and start standing inside it.
Morning arrived without ceremony.
The bungalow stirred early that day.
Footsteps echoed more often in the halls, voices carried with intention rather than caution. Guards appeared at the gates before the sun had fully risen, not in formation, not aggressive, just present — a sign meant to be noticed.
Nyxa was the first to sense it. She stood by the window, eyes narrowing slightly as the air shifted.
"He's here," she said.
Ren didn't ask who.
A convoy rolled through the outer grounds soon after. Black vehicles marked with sigils that did not belong to any nation, only wealth. Influence. Quiet authority. When the doors opened, the man who stepped out did not rush.
Veylan walked as if the land already expected him.
