52:The False Calm
Morning came reluctantly. Pale sunlight pushed through the clouds, washing the fortress in dull gray. The courtyard smelled of blood and wet earth; broken weapons still littered the ground from the night before. Inside the infirmary, Aria sat by Eli’s bedside. His breathing was shallow but steady. Dark veins still trailed along his neck — remnants of the Phantom’s possession — but the violent silver glow had faded. The silence was heavy. Too heavy. Darius leaned against the far wall, arms crossed, watching her. His shirt was torn at the shoulder, revealing a jagged scar that hadn’t been there yesterday. “You haven’t slept,” he said quietly. “I couldn’t,” Aria replied without looking up. “Every time I close my eyes, I see her face. Hear her voice.” Darius’s expression softened. “You
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