The valley lay untouched by the restless pulse of the outer world, cradled between ancient stone and whispering trees, where dawn did not rush but unfolded slowly like a quiet promise, and within that sacred stillness there sat a figure unmoving, his presence woven so deeply into the land that it seemed the earth itself breathed with him, as though time had chosen to pause rather than disturb what rested there.
Roberto De Luca had not stirred for hours.
Perhaps days.
Perhaps longer.
For time did not pass here as it did elsewhere.
It lingered.
It listened.
And yet—
Something broke that stillness.
A ripple.
Faint.
But wrong.
His breath shifted.
Barely.
Yet enough.
"The balance is broken."
The words did not leave his lips.
They formed within him.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
