The heavy wooden door of the stone house closed with a thud that echoed like a final heartbeat. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of old paper and the lingering chill of the Gerezani ruins. Nala leaned against the rough surface, the worn photograph of her father still warm from her touch. The world of knowledge he believed in was a ghost; the world she now inhabited was built on fire and ink.
She wasn't just a victim anymore. She was the architect of a new, chaotic reality.
"Nala?" Leo’s voice broke the silence, thin and trembling. He was huddled near a stack of moth eaten archives, his eyes wide with a fear that Nala no longer felt. "They’re coming, aren't they? The men from the shadows... the ones who turned the factory to ash."
Nala walked toward him, her footsteps steady on t
