The city lay quiet, a fragile calm settling over streets still glistening from the storm. Sunlight spilled across glass towers and rain-slicked asphalt, painting the world anew. Inside the stronghold, the air was thick with lingering tension but tempered now by relief, triumph, and the hum of rebuilding.

Justina Ashes moved slowly through the chamber, senses still alert, though the battle had ended. Every scar, every mark of struggle, spoke not only of pain, but of survival, of strength, of ...