Ravenspire did not sleep.
Not after what happened.
The southern cliff was still cracked.
The dock smelled of iron and sea.
Lanterns burned longer than usual.
Healers moved from one injured body to another.
Varric sat on a wooden bench inside the guild hall, his shoulder tightly wrapped.
"You should be lying down," Mira told him.
"I am lying down," Varric replied.
"You are sitting."
"It is lying down with pride."
Megan rolled her eyes. "You almost died."
Varric gave a faint smile. "Almost is not the same as dead."
Across the hall, Kael leaned against a pillar, watching Elara quietly.
She stood near the entrance, silent, thoughtful.
Darius walked toward her slowly.
The hall quieted.
No one said it directly.
But everyone knew.
The Blood Council did not attack cities for sport.
They attacked for power.
And they came for her.
Darius stopped in front of Elara.
"They came because of you," he said calmly.
"Yes," she replied.
"And the chamber answered you."
"Yes."
