The tremor did not begin beneath their feet, nor in the clash of bodies that still echoed through the wounded streets, but rose instead from something deeper, something older than the city itself, something that remembered before any of them had learned to stand.
It moved quietly at first, like breath slipping through closed lips, brushing against stone, curling through shadows, touching every corner of the territory with a presence that did not ask permission.
Windows shivered faintly in their frames, not from force, but from resonance, as though the very air had begun to hum with a note long forgotten.
The wolves felt it first in their bones, a pull that steadied and unsettled all at once, a grounding that felt too vast to belong to any single being.
"…what is happening…?" one whispered, his voice low, his breath catching as he stilled mid-step.
His eyes lifted without thought.
