EMMA'S POV
The world learned how to breathe again.
Not all at once. Not evenly. But unmistakably.
Aren felt it the first time he walked alone beyond the Citadel without the Echo humming at the forefront of his senses. The absence was not a void—it was space. Space for sound, for texture, for the subtle weight of existence he had not realized he'd been missing. Gravel shifted beneath his boots. Wind tugged at his coat. The smell of rain lingered in the air, real and grounding.
Human.
He paused at the edge of the lower terraces, watching the city wake. Builders moved deliberately now, no longer rushing as if afraid time itself might collapse. Wells glimmered faintly in the distance, present but no longer dominant—like constellations rather than suns.
For the first time since the Awakening, Aren was not necessary.
The thought should have terrified him.
Instead, it steadied him.
"You're thinking too loudly again."
