CHAPTER 106 — WHAT SURVIVES THE FALL
The morning after collapse never looked like victory.
There were no celebrations at the estate. No sense of triumph, no relieved laughter, no exhale of tension finally released. The dawn arrived the same way it always did—slowly, almost indifferently—light sliding across stone and glass, touching the gardens without favor.
Elena stood at the window long before anyone else woke, watching the city reset itself. Collapse did not pause the world. People still went to work. Markets still opened. Traffic still moved. Only those who had been standing at the center of the fracture felt the shift beneath their feet.
And even then, it was subtle.
No explosions. No public reckoning. No single moment anyone could point to and say, this is when it ended.
The fall had happened quietly, over time, through hesitation and exposure and the unbearable weight of truth pressing down on structures never meant to carry it.
