The room was quiet, save for the soft flicker of the fireplace casting shadows on the walls. Logan leaned back against the sturdy armchair, his posture relaxed but alert. Across from him, Freya sat curled up on the edge of the sofa, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. Her eyes were distant, haunted, as if she were reliving every memory all at once.

“I just… I don’t believe it,” Freya said, her voice barely above a whisper. “All of this… it’s really over?” She shook her head, ...