She was in the kitchen. Of course she was. In sixteen days, I had never seen Maren anywhere unexpected. She moved through Stromhaven like a current Always present.Always precise. I had called it competence. I was reconsidering that. She sat at the kitchen table with tea and correspondence, working through it with quiet efficiency. She looked up as we entered.Me. Zayden. Dorian.Her expression didn’t shift the way guilt would. It did something else. Readiness. “Sit,” she said. We did. She looked at each of us. Then at me. “You found Soren.” “Vale found him,” I said. She nodded. Of course. “Then you know.” “You accessed the full protocol.” “Six months ago.” “Yes.”The kitchen went still. “Your mother and I were friends,” she said. Not formal. Not distant. “Friends.” “Eleven years.” “She wrote to me before she died.” A pause. “She didn’t send fragments.” “She sent everything.” I didn’t move. “You knew,” I said. “About the seal.” “About step seven.” “I knew everything she knew,” Maren s
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