Morning arrived quietly, almost deceptively so.
Sunlight poured over the palace of Nacrifa like a benediction, warming stone that had known too many sleepless nights. For the first time in days, the air did not taste of fear. The bells rang, not sharp, not urgent but slow and ceremonial, echoing across courtyards and corridors alike.
Nacrifa was safe.
And so, everyone was leaving.
The palace grounds buzzed with movement. Carriages lined the wide stone paths, horses stamped impatiently, servants hurried with trunks and crates, and voices overlapped in relieved laughter and hurried farewells. Nobles who had once whispered of demons and death now spoke of estates, duties, and overdue returns.
It was over.
Aliena stood among them, her hands folded tightly in front of her, watching as her family's belongings were loaded onto a modest carriage.
