Although the city had started to recover, its walls and its citizens still bore scars. Even though the streets were bustling with activity, there remained an underlying tension—a communal holding of breath—because the embers of the past had not yet subsided. Alexis was at the centre of her metamorphosis throughout this precarious recuperation, determined to make sure that the cycles of the past would not recur in this new phase of their lives.
The council chamber had been transformed from a sterile and ominous space. Local artists' creations, each of which told a tale of resiliency and solidarity, graced its walls. The voices in the chamber today were ones of cooperation rather than authority. Seats at the table were now occupied by representatives from every district, even those who had previously been excluded.
At the head of the table, Alexis took her place. With a calm yet kind tone, she opened, "We are here to write the next chapter of our city's history." Division is a thing of
