The city breathed in a rhythm that felt new. For the first time in decades, the streets below Alexander and Emily's residence hummed with a quiet energy rather than the undercurrent of fear and surveillance. The night air carried not the stench of power struggles, but the subtle scent of freshly cut grass from the nearby gardens, mixed with the distant aroma of bakeries and warm lights spilling onto cobblestone lanes. It was ordinary in a way that seemed miraculous.
Inside the high tower that now housed their family, warmth radiated in every corner. It was not merely the heat from the hearths or the central heating that Alexander had insisted be automated to perfection; it was the warmth of life itself. Emily walked through the halls softly, her presence deliberate, careful not to startle the quiet energy that had taken root.
