The tears dried. Slow. Quiet. Not rushed. Not forced. Just finished. Mae sniffed once, knuckles wiping under her eyes, breath unsteady but no longer shaking apart at the seams. Her hands rested in her lap, fingers twisting the fabric of the blanket. The others stayed close. Not crowding. Just there. Watching. Waiting. Giving space, but refusing to leave. Until. A shift. Subtle. Soft. But all of them felt it. The air thickened. The shadows near the doorway curled, just slightly.
Kaine’s eyes flicked up first, followed by Lucien, then Sethis. Even Riven’s head turned. His lazy grin softened, not surprised. Not tense. Just expectant. Because of course.
Of course. He’d been there the whole time. Footsteps, silent. Weighted not by sound, but by presence. Ashar stepped into the room, the shado
