Chapter 49: Lines Drawn in Ash, IV
The morning after didn't feel like victory.
It felt like the echo of a fire that hadn't fully gone out.
We stayed in Helene's clinic longer than we should have. The snow outside had grown heavier overnight, thickening into soft drifts along the windowsills. Light barely filtered in through the frost-laced glass.
Konrad stood by the front door, coat on, hands behind his back. Erich sat in the armchair, motionless, his eyes fixed on a crack in the floorboard. Clara brewed tea at the counter. She moved like she'd done it a hundred times, though none of us had ever seen her do it before.
I sat at the small table, journal open, charcoal pencil in hand. The page was blank. Nothing stirred beneath it.
Not today.
"Is everyone here?" Helene's voice floated in from the side room. She stepped in a moment later, her coat draped over one arm. Calm. Serene. Watching.
Clara nodded. "More or less."
"Good," Helene said. "Then we should talk."
We gathered loosely—Konrad stayed near the door, Clara beside me. Erich didn't move from the chair.
"I know this isn't easy," Helene began. "But the four of you are together now. That means something. It means the world hasn't completely broken yet."