Outside, the nimbus clouds that had cloaked the manor in the last few hours suddenly parted—ripped open by an unseen hand to reveal a brilliant sky, as though the world itself exhaled in relief. The sun spilled through the windows, illuminating the radiant light of the ancient tapestries and silver filigree.
Prince Alaric, standing near Lara, caught the shift in atmosphere. He knew what it meant. He had overstayed his welcome, and the time had come to leave.
He bowed respectfully to Odin and Freya, then turned toward the door. But his gaze lingered—longer than necessary—on Lara. The air between them was thick with a thousand unsaid things. Then, with quiet grace, he stepped out.