The morning after the storm arrived slowly. Pale light entered the sitting room of the old house and touched the ashes of the fire. Elena woke first. She had slept only a few hours, sitting upright against the sofa with the letters still close. Adrian slept in the chair opposite her, his face tired and marked by the long night. For a moment she watched him in the quiet light. The danger of the confrontation was over, yet the weight of what they had faced remained.

She rose carefully and walked to the window. The rain had stopped. The sea was still restless, but the sky held a thinner gray than the day before. Outside, the paths were muddy and scattered with broken branches. No dark figure stood among the rocks. The shadow had been driven back, at least for now.