The temple held.
For the first time in days the residual monitors stayed flat. No new spikes. No secondary echoes crawling along the outer pylons. The damaged sections were under repair—teams working under low light, welding seams, replacing cracked resonators, checking alignment by hand.
The thrall remained sedated in the lower containment bay, vitals steady, the residual signature inside it reduced to a faint, monitored hum.
Aiden moved through the wounded wards first. Most of the injuries were burns and impact trauma from the outer-ring assault.
He checked dressings, asked the same practical questions he always asked—pain levels, range of motion, sleep—and received short, tired answers.
Elizabeth walked beside him. She carried a tablet with the current status board and updated it as they went. Their conversation stayed low and operational until they reached the quieter upper corridors.
