They did not speak on the way back up.
Not because there was nothing to say.
Because anything spoken too soon would shatter under the weight of what they had just witnessed.
The spiral staircase seemed longer now.
Each step away from the foundation felt wrong in a way Aria couldn't explain. Like turning your back on a storm that wasn't chasing you… but wasn't finished either.
Damien stayed close, one hand hovering at her back without quite touching. Not protective. Not possessive.
Present.
Grounding.
When they reached the iron gate, it sealed behind them without being touched. The runes dimmed again, fading into quiet obedience as if nothing had changed.
But everything had.
By the time they emerged into the upper corridors, the Citadel's sounds returned in pieces. Footsteps. Distant voices. The faint clatter of armor. Life continuing in blissful ignorance of what pulsed beneath its bones.
Aria stopped.
