Page 105 of Veil of Dust

Tiziano doesn’t smile.

Instead, he places a hand on my shoulder.

It doesn’t feel like comfort. Doesn’t feel like possession either.

It feels like war-born understanding. Blood recognizing blood.

“The old guard’s ash now,” he says.

I stare into the fire.

No tears. No regret. Just the roar of heat and the whisper of everything I’ve lost catching up to what I’ve become.

My hands curl into fists.

I whisper, “And I’m something new.”

He hears it. Doesn’t reply.

We stand side by side as the flames take the chamber. The fire blots out the banners. The chair. The files. The men who once believed they’d live forever on the backs of those like me.

And when the ceiling groans, we don’t run.

We walk out slowly, blades down, backs straight.

Smoke pours out behind us.

Ash dances through the corridor like gray snow.

I don’t breathe deeply until we’re outside.

The storm breaks overhead.

Finally.

Rain slams the courtyard stones.

Tiziano lifts his face to it.

I let it soak through my coat, wash the dried blood from my arms, my collar, my cheek.

It doesn’t make me clean.

But it clears the path ahead.

We walk away from the Order’s heart, now a smoking grave.

No crown. No throne.

Just fire and what’s left of us.

And ahead—whatever comes next.

Chapter 24 – Tiziano

I lean against the rooftop ledge, elbows on the worn brick, eyes on the street two floors below.

The city doesn’t look like it changed.

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