Back then, nothing mattered more than being together beneath the same roof.
Now, everything I built had fallen apart.
“I want an account prepared,” I added to the pack steward. “All unpaid shelter dues for the last four cycles. Written clearly. If they cannot pay, begin removal rites.”
“Understood,” she answered. “The parchments will be handled quietly and the manor will be opened to buyers.”
I nodded. “Thank you.”
I ended our conversation and activated another rune on my crystal communicator, contacting my pack steward.
“I want all my belongings traded,” I said. “Furnishings. Tools. Everything is still inside.”
“Everything on it?” he asked.
“Yes. I will take nothing.”
The connection ended, yet I remained standing.
I looked around the manor, my manor, for the final time. The air felt still, heavy, as if the walls themselves knew I was leaving. The place that once echoed with laughter now held only quiet.