AISLYNNight settles differently after bloodless wars.

The packhouse no longer hums with panic or magic gone feral. Instead, it breathes, slow, cautious, like a body relearning how to exist without pain. Torches glow steady along the walls. Guards return to their posts without that tight edge of fear. Somewhere deeper inside, laughter stutters back to life, fragile but real.

Elliot waits for me in the council chamber.

Not seated on the Alpha’s throne.

Standing.

That alone tells me how much the ...