Tyla’s POV
The world does not change all at once.
It exhales.
I notice it in the pauses—those small, almost invisible spaces where something could be taken by force and instead is left alone.
The day after Arthur admits he’s proud of being unnecessary, the council hall empties before dusk. Not because everything is resolved, but because people decide to sleep on their arguments instead of sharpening them into weapons. A month ago, that would have felt like failure.
Now it feels like restraint.
I walk the long gallery alone, my footsteps echoing against the stone that once memorized my urgency. The walls are bare where banners used to hang—symbols of certainty, of destiny, of rule. We took them down quietly. No ceremony. No declaration. Just an understanding that walls do not need to
