Chapter 261

The morning came too quietly.

Even the birds seemed uncertain to sing.

For the first time in days, the air didn’t smell like blood or ash. Just dew and rosemary — Marta must have been busy in the gardens again. The faint scent drifted through the open window, soft and clean, like the world pretending it hadn’t just burned.

Dante was still asleep beside me, his breath steady, the faintest crease be