Chapter 149: The Calculus of Aftermath
Victory at Frosthold tasted of thawing ice and exhaustion. The silence was gone, but the air itself felt bruised. Ector's soldiers stumbled from the fortress gates, blinking in the daylight as if newborn, their faces etched with the strange trauma of having been amplified, turned into living weapons against their own oppression.
Lyra watched from the outcrop as the relieved force from the cove met with Ector's at the main gates. There were no cheers, only a vast, shuddering collective sigh. She saw her father's tall form amidst the militia, saw him clasp Ector's forearm, their faces grim. Kaelen's eyes scanned the crowd, finding her on the ridge. His nod was not of celebration, but of grim acknowledgment. The job was done.
