Chapter 57: The Aftermath and the Oath
The silence in Silas's former chambers was a living, suffocating entity, broken only by Ronan's ragged, receding breaths and the faint, impotent echo of Kael's roar against the unyielding stone. The air itself felt violated, tainted by the smug, silent escape of the man who had orchestrated decades of bloodshed. Alaric's name hung in the room, no longer a ghost but a scar burned into their present reality.
Lyra remained on the floor, her hands supporting Ronan's shoulders as the psychic aftershocks subsided. His face was pale, sweat beading on his brow, but the raw agony in his eyes was being replaced by a simmering, focused rage. He looked from Lyra's concerned face to Kael's rigid, enraged back.
"He was here," Ronan rasped, the words a painful effort. "The whole time."
