The days that followed were quieter, but quiet did not mean peace. It was the kind of silence that came after a storm, heavy and waiting. Ravenclaw's lands were scarred, its borders fragile, and the hearts of its people torn between hope and grief.
Evelyn stood at the edge of the rebuilding site, watching as young wolves raised the new walls of the southern defence line. Smoke from the burned villages still lingered faintly in the wind. The air was full of hammering, shouted orders, and the weary rhythm of survival.
"Stronger walls won't help if hearts remain divided," George said as he came to stand beside her. His face was drawn, his eyes shadowed by exhaustion. "Some of the elders are still refusing to cooperate. They blame you for drawing Fji's wrath."
Evelyn did not turn her gaze from the workers. "They can blame me if it makes them feel safer. But I will not stop doing what needs to be done."
George sighed. "You sound like Damien."
