The next morning in Star Harbor felt different from the days before.
The rain had softened, no longer roaring against the city, but falling gently in fine droplets that clung to the air like a quiet memory. The mist still lingered, but it no longer suffocated the streets. Instead, it wrapped everything in a calm, almost sacred silence.
It was not a day for business.
It was not a day for war.
It was a day of remembrance.
Inside Pearl Villa, the atmosphere carried a weight that words could not describe. The usual warmth of laughter and chatter was replaced with a quiet understanding shared by everyone present.
Miles stood in front of the mirror, dressed in a black suit.
The fabric sat perfectly on him, sharp and composed, yet his eyes reflected something softer today. Not rage. Not calculation.
Something more human.
Something uncertain.
He adjusted his cuffs slowly, taking a deep breath before turning away and walking toward Timothy's room.
The door opened gently.
