The soft hum of evening fell over Edenael, a strange quiet settling across the halls of the palace despite the war that loomed on the horizon. Inside the royal hall, the Grimknights gathered—war-weary, bruised, but alive. A gentle fire crackled in the hearth, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors and high vaulted ceilings. The laughter had quieted now, replaced by reflective silence.
Espada leaned back against one of the thick stone columns, arms folded, her hair cascading over one shoulder. "I still can't believe how many Blasphemies we had to go through," she muttered, voice low but filled with weight. "Freaks, demons... and yet we're still here."
Kaiser chuckled faintly as he nursed a wrap around his arm. "Barely."
Wulf remained standing, arms crossed as he looked toward the window where the moonlight bled in through the glass. Beside him, Elric sat on the edge of the long table, tending to his wounds, wrapping a cloth tightly around a deep gash on his side.
