The servants moved like shadows against the stone walls, their eyes downcast and their hands trembling as they carried trays of food that no one seemed to have the appetite to touch.
The atmosphere was no longer just tense, it had become a physical weight that pressed against the lungs of everyone within the palace walls, a silent acknowledgment that the peace of the silver dome was an illusion.
Up on the high balcony that overlooked the entire kingdom, Alaric stood with his hands gripped on the stone railing.
His eyes were turned toward the horizon, his head tilted as if he were analyzing a symphony that only he could hear.
The dome was still there, shimmering in the stagnant sunlight, but to Alaric, the barrier felt like a string that had been stretched too far.
The frequency of the realm was changing, the vibrations of the earth beneath his boots turning into a dissonant hum that made his bones ache.
