The last of the wishes had been spoken. The last of the wronged had been heard.
No cries of protest rose to challenge the verdict, no unfinished pleas clung to the air in desperation. Even grief, heavy and earned had settled into stillness, no longer sharp enough to wound, no longer loud enough to demand more. It remained, but it rested.
Then the court felt her.
Xerosis' presence did not arrive with sound or light, nor with any shift that mortal senses could name. Yet it spread through the chamber all the same, an undeniable pressure that tightened the breath and steadied the heart in equal measure. Though unseen, she was unmistakable. The stone beneath their feet seemed to remember her. The air itself grew attentive.
Her gaze moved across the assembled. The victims stood before her, whole in spirit if not in form. Scars remained. Loss remained. Yet their wills were unbroken, their voices uncoerced.
