Morning came quietly, slipping into the Northern Capital on pale bands of light that crept between towers and across glass-paneled avenues.
The city never truly slept, but there was a noticeable shift at dawn—a loosening of tension, a collective breath drawn by people who believed, at least for a few hours, that the worst dangers stayed in the dark.
Albedo hadn't slept.
The illusion on the bed dissolved the moment Raven's mana finished unwinding from his space. The disc of runes crumbled into harmless motes, leaving behind an untouched mattress and a room that looked exactly as it had hours earlier.
He stood by the window for a long while after that, watching the city wake up, Source Code idling behind his eyes as he quietly cataloged patrol patterns, mana fluctuations, and the faint ripples left behind by last night's collapse.
