The city square lay carved in half between breath and silence, where broken stone and scattered shadows marked the place where war had already passed yet refused to leave.
The air did not move freely there, for something heavier lingered, something ancient pressing down with quiet authority, bending even the faintest wind into stillness.
Wolves stood at the edges of it, their bodies tense though steadier now, their breaths controlled, their eyes drawn toward the center without knowing why.
Even the distant echoes of battle seemed to hesitate before crossing into that space, as though instinct itself warned against interruption.
"…why does it feel like everything just stopped," one muttered, his voice low, his shoulders tightening despite the calm.
No one answered.
Cassian Virelli stepped forward.
Not with haste.
Not with force.
But with inevitability.
