Night settled uneasily over Virelia.
It was not the calm of rest, but the stillness that came after something had been broken. Fires had been put out, chains locked into place, prisoners dragged away—but the city itself felt awake, listening, waiting.
Inside the palace, Valerian stood with both hands braced against the stone balcony railing, rain misting his knuckles. Below him, torches dotted the streets like fallen stars.
Footsteps approached.
"You're going to wear a trench into the stone if you keep standing there," Kaelen said lightly.
Valerian didn't turn. "Report."
Kaelen sobered immediately. "Eastern districts are secured. We cleared six hideouts. Two more were abandoned before we arrived."
"How many taken?"
"Thirty-seven confirmed agents. Twelve suspected collaborators."
Valerian nodded. "And the rest?"
"They ran," Kaelen admitted. "Fast."
"They always do."
Rael joined them, shaking rain from his cloak. "Southern Virelia is louder than a battlefield right now."
