[Old world – A room with a view (second floor)…Blackmoon Stronghold]
Autumn stood by a tall, wide window.
Her hands pressed against the cold frame, her forehead leaning just barely against the glass.
She saw the smoke rising in long, twisting ribbons, far on the horizon.
They curled upward into the heavy night like prayers never answered.The faint orange flickers still glowed at the shore far below…the funeral pyres…burning until nothing would remain.
Her chest rose once.
Then again.
Each breath a drag against her ribs.
Her lips parted. A single word slipped out, barely a breath, barely a sound.
"Lyla…"
The smoke trembled in her blurred vision as her lashes dampened.
The tear didn't fall at first. It clung to her cheek, shimmering in the faint lamplight…until it finally slid down, cutting a warm trail down to her jaw.
Her voice came soft but steady, as if speaking to the fire itself.
