Hours later, after the chaos had settled into grim determination, I found Isabella sitting quietly in her bedroom, surrounded by her stuffed wolves arranged in a perfect circle around her. The sight broke my heart—my little girl creating her own protective pack in the only way she knew how.
"Hey, sweetheart," I said softly, knocking on the open door.
She looked up, her eyes—so like Silvano's—wide and solemn. "Is Daddy all better now?"
"Yes," I answered, entering to sit beside her on the bed. "The medicine worked. His curse is gone."
"And Miss Aurora?"
I hesitated, unsure how to explain death and dark magic to a five-year-old. "She... had to go away. Forever."
Isabella nodded, accepting this with unsettling calmness. "I know. I saw it in my dream."
A chill ran down my
