Silence settled like dust.
Not the peaceful kind.
The aftermath kind — the heavy, ringing quiet left behind when the world stops trying to kill you.
Valeria exhaled once. Controlled. Precise. The way she'd trained herself to breathe after a kill, after a clash, after a battlefield's rhythm stuttered into stillness.
Her blade lowered.
She didn't sheath it yet.
Not until the proctor dismissed the dome.
But her eyes —
her eyes went to the trio beside her.
Ren Aldric, breathing hard enough that each inhale scraped the air. Knees shaking, but refusing to fall again.
Liliana Crestfall, hands trembling as she unstrung her bow — not fear, but adrenaline wearing off too quickly for her small frame to compensate.
Both exhausted.
Both competent.
Both dependable enough to work with.
Valeria's gaze softened by a fraction.
They held.
