The next morning, the hideout was filled with a somber silence. Stella sat at the edge of a makeshift table, her gaze distant as she replayed the events of the previous night in her mind. The coldness of William's voice, the dead bodies of the prisoners, the overwhelming sense of defeat—it all weighed heavily on her shoulders.
Bryan approached her quietly, his face just as worn and troubled. "Stella," he began softly, "we did everything we could. There was no way we could have anticipated his magic."
Stella looked up at him, her eyes hard with determination. "We underestimated him. That's on me. I should've known he wouldn't just let us get away so easily."
Finn, who had been sharpening his blade in the corner, stood and joined them. "It's not your fault, Stella. We were outnumbered and outmatched. But we've learned something valuable. William's power isn't just brute strength. He's using dark magic, something far more dangerous."
