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The stronghold had fallen into that deep, perfect quiet that only comes when every worry for the day has been laid to rest, and every door is locked tight against the dark. The children were fast asleep - Lycian with a scroll still open on his chest, Fenris curled into a ball like a shadow, Drako’s hand resting on the wooden practice staff he refused to put away, Lira breathing slow and soft beside her favorite stuffed wolf. The guards made their rounds without haste. The wards hummed steady and bright, no flicker, no warning, no need to strain against anything at all.

Aria climbed the winding stone steps...