"When men quarrel, the forest itself delivers judgment." , Fragment of a forgotten hymn.
The fire hissed and snapped, each ember bursting like a tiny star against the dark. The clearing had become a crucible, two rings of steel closing in upon one another, both surrounding the same boy.
Hunters stood taut as bowstrings, their faces shadowed by firelight, their edges honed by suspicion. Sofia's soldiers mirrored them with cold, disciplined precision, every step measured, every blade already halfway drawn. It was as if the shrine's ruined stones themselves strained under the weight of so much sharpened intent.
Leo sat at the center, his mouth dry, his chest rising and falling in shallow bursts. He tried to speak, to release even a fragment of sound, but his throat closed as if gripped by unseen hands. The fragment pulsed against his ribs, harder, hotter, urging, demanding. Choose, it hissed. Pick your fire and burn the rest away.
