Chapter 117 Ashes And Iron

• Luna's POV
• The studio was quiet, but not the kind of quiet that soothes you. Not like the silence after finishing a long day of painting, when the colors are still wet and the air feels heavy with work. This was a strange quiet. A waiting quiet. The kind that pressed into your ears until you could hear your own blood rushing. The kind of quiet that tasted like smoke after a fire—everything charred, even if the flames were gone.
• Clara’s desk was empty. Cleaner than I’d ever seen it. She had already cleared her things—her notebooks stacked neat, her favorite pens, the silly plant she kept by the window that always leaned toward the light. All gone.