The city of Harlow had begun to heal, but it was far from whole. Weeks had passed since William's fall, and the people were slowly emerging from the devastation, piecing together their broken lives. Streets once littered with rubble were now being cleared, families worked together to repair their homes, and the fires of survival had been replaced by the steady flame of resilience.
Yet, despite the signs of recovery, a creeping sense of dread lingered. It was subtle, like a whisper on the wind, but it was there, gnawing at the edges of Stella's mind.
She walked through the central square at dusk, her eyes scanning the faces of the townspeople. Many offered her nods of gratitude, some even stopped to speak words of thanks for what she, Bryan, and Sylvia had done. Stella smiled politely, but inside, the unease persisted.
