The time-freeze snapped off like a broken switch.
Angels dropped from their frozen mid-shouts and mid-flights, crashing into each other across the central plaza.
One seraph slammed face-first into a marble column and started screaming about a future where his wings were clipped and he begged in the lower districts.
A group of enforcers near the fountain clawed at their own faces, reliving seconds of alternate deaths. Temporal whiplash, Atlas called it. The whole district was having a collective bad trip.
"Keep moving," Atlas said, grabbing Elara's arm. "They'll sort themselves out."
They didn't. A riot sparked near the east gate when a dozen angels realized they'd just seen themselves erased in the Reset. Fists flew.
Wings beat hard enough to knock people off their feet. Atlas and Elara slipped through the edge of it, heading for the narrow streets that led toward the mid-districts.
Then the red watcher orb hovering above them split.
