The creak of the front door echoed quietly as Leonel and Aranea stepped into their home. The moonlight streaming from the windows painted silver lines across the wooden floors, illuminating their soot-covered clothes and weary expressions.
"Aranea!"
Elenea's voice rang out like a bell. She rushed from the kitchen, halting the moment she saw her sister's disheveled state—clothes torn, skin bruised and scratched, and a vacant look in her eyes that said more than words ever could.
Without a word, Elenea wrapped her arms around her sister. Aranea stood frozen for a moment before burying her face into Elenea's shoulder, trembling. Elenea didn't ask. She simply held her tighter.
"You're safe now," she whispered, voice thick with worry. "Come on. Let's clean you up."
Aranea said nothing. She only nodded faintly, letting her sister guide her toward the bathroom. The door clicked shut, and silence filled the house again.
