The bronze coin felt heavy in Clek's hand.
He stood in the garden, the morning sun warm on his face, the sounds of the city slowly returning to life around him. Verenthia was healing. The root was severed, the source of the darkness destroyed. The survivors had returned from the tunnels, battered but victorious. The war was over.
But the victory felt hollow, like a wound that had healed over but still ached beneath the surface.
Aria's presence flickered in his mind, soft and warm. "Clek. You've been standing here for hours. What's wrong?"
"I don't know." His voice was flat, hollow. "I should feel relieved. I should feel like we won. But something feels off. Something feels wrong."
"What do you mean?"
Clek was silent for a long moment, his eyes fixed on the coin. Then he spoke, his vo
