They came back at midday.
Three riders, dust-coated and grim, with House Vael’s silver sigil still bright on their shoulders despite everything. The gates of Virell opened for them without a word. No one cheered. No one jeered. The city was too tired for that.
Aria was waiting in the square when they dismounted.
Darian stood a step behind her, hand resting on his sword hilt. Kieran leaned against the well, pretending he wasn’t watching too closely. Envoy Mara stood to the side, her face unreadable.
The lead scout stepped forward. Young, maybe twenty. His hands shook when he pulled off his helmet.
“Well?” Corin asked from the steps of the council hall. He hadn’t slept. It showed.
The scout swallowed. “The lower ruins are empty, my lord.”
The words landed like a stone in still
