Erza stood in the center of the ruined apartment, torn between two worlds, two lives, two futures. The cracked floorboards creaked beneath her feet, and the morning light filtered through the broken windows, casting long shadows across the debris. Dust still floated in the air, stirred by the chaos of the night, and somewhere outside, a bird sang, oblivious to the war being waged inside her heart.
She did not know which one to choose.
The room had fallen quiet. Isvarn knew that the best decisions were made in silence, that silence forced you to think, to weigh, to confront the truths you had been avoiding. He did not interrupt. He did not offer more advice.
He simply stood by the window, his ancient eyes fixed on his granddaughter, waiting for her to find her own answer.
Erza stood still. Numb.
