The afternoon sun in Duskhaven City filtered through the hospital windows, casting a warm, golden hue over the rehabilitation wing. The sterile, clinical scent of disinfectant seemed less oppressive now that Tristan Flynn was upright. For the first time in years, he took a step—shaky, unpracticed, but undeniably real—supported by the high-tech walkers provided by the facility.
Watching her father regain his humanity, Sienna Flynn felt a lump form in her throat. She turned to Dominic Mylod, her eyes shimmering with a mixture of disbelief and profound gratitude. "Dominic," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "He’s walking. I don't even have the words to thank you for what you've done for our family."
Dominic reached out, his hand resting gently on the small of her back—a grounding
