The silver dome had remained a constant fixture over the horizon for ten days, a silent and transparent cage that had turned the kingdom into a vacuum.
During the first few hours of the lockdown, the black spokes of the Covenant had hammered against the barrier with a frequency that made the earth groan, but now there was only a hollow, ringing silence that felt far more dangerous than the noise.
In the central marketplace, the demon townspeople moved with a restless, prowling energy, their eyes constantly darting toward the shimmering sky as if they were waiting for the other shoe to drop.
The initial panic had settled into a low-grade fever of paranoia, especially as the trade routes remained severed and the air within the realm grew increasingly stale.
"It has been over a week since the smoke touched the glass," an old demon muttered, his voice gravelly as he leaned against a stone pillar near the fountain.
