No one answered him.
Not because no one wished to.
Because the words had fallen into the square with the weight of something already decided.
Smoke drifted low through broken streets. Somewhere beyond the municipal ruins, something still burned, and the orange pulse of distant fire moved across shattered windows and bent metal like the city itself was breathing through pain. Yet within the square, everything had narrowed to one terrible center.
Liora in his arms.
Nyla unconscious in Marcus's hold.
And the silence surrounding what had been done to them.
Thessian looked down again at Liora's face.
For a long moment it seemed as though he no longer saw the square at all.
Only her.
Only the evidence written into her body.
The bruising.
The restraint marks.
The unnatural stillness of limbs that should have moved when shifted.
He did not ask what had been done.
He could see enough.
And that was worse.
