Phoebe was awake when her father walked in.
She knew because she heard the breath hitch in his chest before he even spoke.
He stood there for a moment, staring at her like he wasn't sure she was real.
Then he crossed the room in two long steps and sat down hard beside her bed.
"Oh," he said quietly. "Phoebe…"
That was all it took.
Her father broke.
Not loudly.Not dramatically.
His shoulders sagged. His hands trembled as he reached for her arm, careful of the bandages.
"I thought…" He swallowed. "I thought I'd lose you too."
Phoebe stared at the ceiling. "I'm still here."
"I know," he said quickly. "I know." His voice cracked. "But so was your mother. Until she wasn't."
She finally turned to look at him.
His eyes were red. Not angry. Not cold. Just scared.
"You don't have to go back," he said suddenly. "The academy, the fighting… you don't need it. I can take care of you. We can leave. Start somewhere else."
Phoebe frowned faintly. "That's not—"
"I won't survive losing you," he said honestly. "Not again."
The door opened.
Principal Nicole Richards stepped in without ceremony.
Phoebe's father stiffened instantly.
"Principal," he said, standing. "Now is not—"
"How are you feeling, Miss Frostbane?" Nicole asked, ignoring him completely.
Phoebe blinked. "Sore. Breathing hurts."
Nicole nodded. "Expected."
She turned slightly toward Phoebe's father.
"And for your peace of mind," she added, "the Church will not interrogate your daughter. Not now. Not ever."
Her father relaxed—just a little.
Then Nicole continued.
"The people responsible for your wife's execution," she said evenly, "are the same faction responsible for the recent murder of Sara Leodra."
The room went dead silent.
"Nicole," Phoebe's father said sharply. "Stop."
But Phoebe's breath had already caught.
"… What?" she asked.
"The Church," Nicole repeated calmly. "They orchestrated both deaths. Under different pretenses. Same hands."
Phoebe's father stepped between them. "You don't need to know this."
Phoebe looked past him.
"Yes," she said quietly. "I do."
Nicole's gaze stayed on Phoebe, unwavering.
"The academy will not stop you," she said. "But neither will it protect you from the consequences of revenge."
Phoebe's fingers curled slowly into the sheets.
She just nodded once.
"I'm staying," she said. "At the academy."
Her father turned to her. "Phoebe—"
"I won't die like Mom," she said calmly. "And I won't forgive them, either."
Nicole inclined her head slightly.
"Then recover," she said. "And choose your battles carefully."
She turned and left.
Phoebe's father sank back into the chair, hands covering his face.
Phoebe stared at the ceiling again.
This time, her eyes burned with something far colder than grief.