Night had fallen over Dolan City like a heavy cloak, muffling the distant cheers and the crackle of victory bonfires. The streets were still littered with broken weapons and drying blood, but the air no longer tasted of panic. People moved again—slowly, carefully, as though afraid to shatter the fragile peace.
Inside the Castros estate, the great hall glowed with low candlelight. Vienna and Noella sat together on the wide velvet couch near the hearth, both still in simple house robes, hair loose, faces scrubbed clean of the day's ash and worry. They hadn't spoken much since Egon returned from the war room. The silence between them was comfortable, but thick with unspoken questions.
The main doors opened with a soft creak.
Hilga stepped inside.
She looked different.
