---
For a second the shop felt too small for the amount of road dust and stubborn loyalty that had just stepped inside it.
Gael's eyes moved the way an experienced foreman's eyes move. He checked the hinges. He checked the corners where a thief might hide. He checked the ceiling as if expecting the roof to be dishonest. Orna leaned one shoulder against the counter, arms folded, and stared at the crafting table in the back like it was a sleeping beast she wanted to wrestle awake. Kel stood near the door and listened to the street sounds with the calm of a man who had learned that cities bite differently than mines.
Edda stayed closest to John, not clingy, just placed. Like a knife sheathed at the right hip.
Fizz hovered at John's shoulder and whispered, "Our house smells like new beginnings and slightly illegal ambition."
"It smells like wood and soot," John murmured.
"That is how ambition smells," Fizz insisted.
