The corridor glowed softly with the light of a single lantern beetle drifting ahead of her, its pale yellow hue swaying like a living flame.
Elara walked lightly, almost skipping. For the first time in a long while, her heart felt unburdened. Confessing everything to Luciel — the truth about Amestris City, the experiments, the ghosts — had been like unclasping a chain she'd worn for years. The tightness in her chest had loosened.
It feels so much easier now, she thought, exhaling into the quiet corridor.
Of course, the weight wasn't entirely gone. Some things couldn't be shed — the creeping infection still asleep inside her veins, the lingering need for revenge that pulsed whenever she thought of the city that made her a weapon. But for now, she could breathe.
Her mind turned to the small roll of parchment she carried — the draft decree Luciel had given her, outlining the structure and privileges of the newly founded Ghost Special Forces.
