Though his mind stirred with questions—about Amira's mysterious "source," her strange awareness of future outcomes, and especially about the truth buried inside his dreams—he kept them buried for now. He could sense that she wasn't withholding out of distrust, but out of necessity.
And she had already said it: Not yet. But soon.
They walked the last stretch of the courtyard together in silence, the soft crunch of gravel beneath their boots the only sound between them. When they reached the steps of the mansion, Amira turned to him briefly—just a glance, a pause that lingered longer than a moment. Then, without a word, she turned and disappeared behind the heavy wooden door of the mayor's house, her silhouette fading into the glow of the hallway light inside.
Aiden stood there for a few seconds, hands buried in his jacket pockets, the cool air brushing past him. He stared at the door even after it had shut.
