"The stars look down on all wars the same, indifferent, cold, and eternal." , Soldier's proverb, Eastern Marches
The forest clearing bristled with tension.
Torches hissed in the night breeze, their flames bending, casting long, jagged shadows across the grass. The Council enforcers stood in disciplined rows, armor polished to mirror the firelight, shields and spears gleaming in orange and gold. Every clink of steel seemed deliberate, every synchronized step of their boots like a drumbeat of inevitability.
Leo's breath misted in the cool air, each exhale heavier than the last. Though the ruin had collapsed behind them, the weight of it clung to his shoulders, pressing down. The fragment inside his chest throbbed like a warning bell, too loud, too eager. Its rhythm whispered the same temptation over and over:
Power is yours. Why do you hesitate?
Sofia moved first.
