Raven Darward Acosta stood at the high window, hands clasped behind his back.
Below him, the capital moved as it always did—orderly, controlled, obedient. No smoke. No screams. Just stone and silence.
"You're scowling again," a voice said behind him. "That usually means someone far away is having a very bad day."
Raven did not turn. "You're late."
The man who had entered shut the door carefully. He was dressed like a soldier but carried himself with the ease of someone who had long stopped fearing punishment.
"Kellan," Raven said at last. "Report."
Kellan sighed theatrically. "No greeting? No concern for my wellbeing? We really must stop pretending we didn't grow up stealing pastries together."
Raven finally looked at him. "You stole. I watched."
"Correction—you distracted the guards."
Raven's mouth twitched once before going still again.
Kellan straightened, the humor slipping away as he reached into his coat and withdrew a sealed document. "Rossenvale is ash."
Raven took the report.
"Full confirmation?" he asked.
"Yes." Kellan's voice was sober now. "The stronghold fell within hours. No survivors of the royal estate. The king and queen were executed. Their personal guard slaughtered. The inner servants didn't make it out."
Raven's gaze moved over the page, unblinking.
"And the princess?" he asked.
Kellan hesitated just long enough to be noticed. "Her chambers were burned. The cliff path collapsed. No body recovered—but no escape route either."
Raven folded the document once. "Then she's dead."
"That's the official record," Kellan said carefully. "Every banner destroyed. Every bloodline accounted for."
"Good." Raven turned back to the window. "Rossenvale was a defiant stain. Its fall will prevent others from growing bold."
Kellan studied him. "You don't sound pleased."
"I don't need to be pleased," Raven replied. "I need certainty."
"You have it," Kellan said. Then, softer, "Still… it was thorough. Almost excessive."
Raven's voice was calm. "Excess prevents resurrection."
Silence settled between them.
After a moment, Kellan cleared his throat. "On a completely unrelated note, the palace servants are unsettled. New captives. Too many disappearances. Morale is—how shall I put this—fragile."
Raven glanced at him. "Then remind them why silence keeps them alive."
Kellan grimaced. "Ah. Your usual approach."
"It works."
Kellan gave a short bow. "As you command, cousin."
Raven did not correct him.
When the door closed behind Kellan, Raven remained at the window, watching the city below. Somewhere far beyond it, Rossenvale lay buried beneath smoke and certainty.
The past, erased.