The Rosanwald manor was never truly silent — it breathed.
At night, the walls sighed softly, the runes inlaid along the corridors shifting like veins under stone. Candles burned with steady, blue-tinted flames that cast ghostly light across the marble floors. The air itself thrummed faintly, resonating with the leftover hum of Aether that clung to Zelene like invisible silk.
She'd been awake for only two days, and already the house seemed to respond to her presence.
The first morning after she regained strength, Zelene sat by the window of her guest chamber, wrapped in one of the manor's pale robes.
Outside, the Rosanwald gardens sprawled in solemn symmetry — white marble paths winding through rose hedges, morning mist coiling low across the ground.
A bird perched near the sill — a tiny wren, brown and bright-eyed.
It tilted its head at her, chirped once, then fell eerily still.
Zelene frowned. She reached out slowly — and the bird bowed its head, trembling, before darting away in a flutter of feathers.
She exhaled, gaze flicking to her hand.
Faint golden traces still shimmered beneath her skin.
The Requiem had left something behind.
---
When Ray entered, he found her lost in thought, tracing invisible sigils on the fogged windowpane.
"You're doing that again," he said softly.
"Doing what?"
"Thinking so hard you look like you're about to rewrite the laws of the world."
Zelene almost smiled. "Wouldn't that be easier than explaining what happened?"
He shrugged, pulling a chair beside her. "Maybe. But explaining things keeps us human."
He hesitated, studying her. "You're different now."
"I know." Her voice was quiet. "Everything feels louder. The air hums. Sometimes I can feel people's hearts when they speak."
Ray blinked. "That's— concerning."
"I'm fine," she lied.
He didn't press. Instead, he leaned back and sighed. "Lord Cassian's been restless. Keeps running tests around the manor. He says the Aether field here hasn't stopped vibrating since the night you cast the Requiem."
She looked toward the ceiling, as if listening. "It hasn't stopped because it can't. The world's still adjusting."
Ray tilted his head. "And the Duke?"
Her chest tightened a little. "He avoids me."
Ray gave a quiet snort. "No, he doesn't. He stares at you when you're not looking."
Zelene turned her head sharply. "He does not."
"He does. Like a man trying to memorize something he's afraid will vanish again."
Zelene's breath caught, but she said nothing. Her fingers brushed the edge of her sleeve — where faint gold flickers pulsed once, then faded.
---
Kael found her in the library later that day — one of Rosanwald's old wings lined with books that smelled of dust and time.
The light filtering through stained glass painted his face in fractured blues and reds.
He stopped in the doorway, hesitant.
"You shouldn't be walking around alone," he said finally.
"I'm fine," she said without turning. "You can stop saying that every time you see me."
He stepped closer, voice softer. "You nearly burned your soul out. You can't blame me for worrying."
Zelene turned to him then, and for a heartbeat, the silence between them deepened — too fragile to touch.
She spoke first, voice faint. "It's strange. I thought when it was over, I'd feel… lighter."
Kael's eyes softened. "You took on something no mortal should. Maybe lightness comes later."
Her lips twitched. "Is that hope or denial?"
"Both," he said with a small, tired smile. "We Dravenharts are skilled in both."
For the first time in days, she laughed — a small sound, quiet and real.
Kael's shoulders eased at the sound. "We'll go home soon," he said. "The manor's waiting for its lady."
Zelene nodded faintly, though her eyes still carried that faraway gleam — as if something unseen still whispered in her thoughts.
---
By the following morning, Cassian had given his approval for them to return to Dravenhart lands.
Zelene stood in the great foyer, dressed in traveling robes again, her hair tied loosely back. The air was crisp, morning light filtering through the high arched windows.
"Are we ready?" she asked, glancing toward Ray and Darius, who were checking their gear.
Ray nodded. "All packed. We can leave whenever you say."
Zelene turned to Darius. "We can use your gift again, can't we? It'll be faster than traveling by carriage."
Darius grimaced, scratching the back of his neck. "Ah… about that. I can only use my gift once a week."
Zelene blinked. "Once a week?"
He nodded. "Yeah. You try bending reality twice in seven days and see if you don't throw up your lungs."
Ray smirked. "He's not wrong. Last time he nearly fainted into a river."
Zelene sighed softly, shaking her head. "Fine. Then we'll take the normal way."
Cassian appeared at the top of the stairs then, his cloak trailing faintly behind him. "Travel safely," he said. "The roads beyond Rosanwald are still watched. Word of the curse's end has already reached the outer provinces."
Zelene met his gaze, calm and resolute. "Thank you, Lord Cassian. For everything."
He inclined his head. "You owe me no thanks. Just remember — what you carry within you now, even in silence, is not done changing."
Her expression flickered — brief unease beneath composure. "Then I'll be ready when it does."
Cassian smiled faintly, the scholar's curiosity tempered by something more human. "Let's hope the world is, too."
---
They left before noon.
The Rosanwald gates opened slowly, the sigil above them glowing faintly in acknowledgment.
As Zelene stepped past the threshold, the morning light caught the faint shimmer beneath her sleeves — the mark of the Aether Requiem, glowing once before fading again.
Kael noticed. His hand brushed hers as they walked.
"You're still glowing," he murmured.
Zelene's lips curved faintly. "So are you."
He smiled, soft and tired. "Then maybe that's enough."
And though she didn't answer, Zelene thought, just for a moment, that the silence around them wasn't empty anymore — it was watching.