"I'm sorry, Aysa." Adyr's pupils trembled as a pale brilliance gathered over his skin, as if invisible doors to a haven had swung inward and poured sanctified light onto him, layer by layer, until it felt like a benediction.
Aysa's body twitched for a second, the sudden change drawing a tightness through her shoulders and spine. But the strain loosened almost at once, ebbing like a tide and leaving behind something new—something she had forgotten long ago, a warmth she could not name yet instinctively knew.
The light spread around them, soft at first, then sure. With it, the basement began to change.
Moldy black walls shed their filth and age, turning new and clean until not a speck of dust remained. The stench in the air thinned and vanished, replaced by the sweet aroma of a freshly baked cake, still warm.
