The rain had begun to fall lightly when Claire emerged from the catacombs, her steps leading her to Place du Tertre. Tourists had vanished like ghosts, and Paris seemed to be holding its breath.
She held the small reliquary Solène had given her before they parted — the Key. No larger than a coin, but heavy as fate. Engraved with ancient symbols, it pulsed in her palm with a strange, almost living warmth.
A figure was watching her from the other side of the square. Claire felt it before she saw it.
— "You shouldn't be alone with that," said a low voice.
Armand.
He stepped from beneath the shadow of a canopy, soaked but wearing the same calm gaze — a gaze she no longer knew was truly his… or the Veil's.
— "They say you've changed," Claire said firmly.
Armand gave a sad half-smile.
— "Maybe I have. Maybe we all change after crossing certain thresholds."
She slipped the reliquary into her pocket.
— "Why are you here?"
— "Because someone is about to betray you. And if I don't stop it, Paris will burn."
Claire didn't reply. The silence between them carried everything that was — and what could never be again.
In the distance, a bell rang. Midnight.
And the city, quietly, began to move.