The silence after the storm did not feel like peace.
It felt like the breath before a scream.
The air inside the compound was thick with smoke, electrical residue, and the scent of shattered glass. Guards moved through the hallways with weapons raised, stepping over fallen equipment and splintered doors. The medical wing was partially destroyed, the lights flickering weakly, casting long shadows along the cracked floor.
Aria lay unconscious in Luca's arms, her breathing shallow but steady. Her skin no longer glowed, but faint traces of light shimmered beneath the surface, like embers that refused to die.
Rosetta hovered close, wiping sweat from Aria's forehead. "She is fading in and out. She is very weak."
Dr. Henri checked her pulse again, his brow deeply furrowed. "Her vitals are stabilizing, but she is in a state of extreme exhaustion. She needs complete rest. No stimulation. No stress."
