CHAPTER 32 — THE COST OF STANDING
The city did not celebrate.
It absorbed.
By morning, the fires were out. Streets were cleared. Broken glass swept away. Screens returned to regulated broadcasts. On the surface, it looked like stability had been restored.
But beneath it—something had cracked.
Amara felt it as she stood before the council chamber doors, hands clasped behind her back, spine straight, expression unreadable. The building was quieter than usual. Too quiet. The kind of quiet that followed violence, not peace.
“They’re afraid,” Clara murmured beside her.
Amara didn’t look at her sister. “Good.”
Clara studied her face. “You scared them last night.”
“I reminded them,” Amara corrected, “that I exist.”
Across the hall, Alessandro leaned against a column, arms crossed, eyes
