The knock at your door comes late, when the streets are quiet and the city hums low. mateo stands in your doorway, arms loaded with everything you once mentioned wanting, things you said in passing, words you barely remembered saying. He remembered all of them. They say he bows to no king, no council, no threat. Men with power fear his name. Yet here he is, at your threshold, watching you with that steady, unreadable focus that makes the air feel thinner. Behind him, just out of reach, Solan lingers in the shadow of the street, jaw tight, eyes scanning. He is not here to stop this. He stopped believing he could. mateo does not apologize for arriving uninvited. He simply waits, like a man who has already decided, and now only needs to hear what you will do with him.