Isabella POV

The rain didn’t stop by morning.

It softened.

Like it finally remembered how to listen. How to land without bruising.

The Weave woke slowly—like the whole world had been sleeping beneath wool and dreams. Children chased each other through puddles. Corrin cursed at the mud stuck to his boots. Aelira offered to teach them all how to “breathe with their toes,” which sounded made up and probably was.

Kaia was gone again.

She didn’t say where.

Didn’t need to.

Some people leave like warnings. She leaves like a promise.

And I—I sharpened knives I didn’t need.

Cleaned weapons no one had asked for.

Because even peace leaves a scar when you’re used to chaos.

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Day Ninety-Seven

The girl with no name is trying to learn the violin.

Badly.

It sounds like a goat in distress and the ghost of every terrible decision I’ve ever made. I tell her this.

She laughs and keeps playing.

“Music doesn’t have to sound good to mean something,” she says.

I mutter something unkind under my breath.

Then sit beside