The city did not celebrate its survival.

That, perhaps, was the clearest sign of how deeply Varenth had changed.

Morning arrived muted and deliberate, as if the city itself were testing the weight of the day before allowing it to settle. Ash from the western quarter still clung to stone and window ledges, thin gray traces marking where the fire had licked and failed. People stepped around it carefully—not as if it were sacred, but as if it were instructive.

A reminder.

Draven walked the ...