By the second morning after the counter-hunt, the recovery halls no longer held Lilith like a patient.
Lucifer felt the change before he reached the sealed doors. Her authority was moving again, darker and sharper, unwilling to sit under stabilizers. When he entered, Damaris was seated on the edge of his own platform, a healer's report in one hand, watching his wife with the wary patience of a man who recognized a storm returning to its feet.
Lilith stood in the center of the room.
The worst of the drain-lines under her skin had faded, what remained looking less like damage than tempered scarring. Her dark eyes found Lucifer the moment he crossed the threshold and the old battlefield focus was fully present.
