The night did not erupt into celebration.
It did not sing her name or split itself open with thunder in tribute.
It observed.
The darkness lingered like a conscious thing, draped over the world with deliberate patience, as though waiting to see what shape Aria Hale would choose to take now that she had stepped beyond the edge of expectation.
She felt it the moment she crossed back into the Sovereign Hold.
Not resistance.
That would have been familiar.
Not fear either.
The air simply shifted, yielding as she moved through it, parting the way water does for a body that belongs within it. There was no ceremony to the gesture. No reverence. No warning.
Just acceptance.
And somehow, that unsettled her far more than any blade or growl ever had.
