The moment Noah spoke the word, the world outside vanished.
A sharp rush of air filled his ears before the silence of eternity pressed in. His boots met soft resistance — grass, endless and green, stretching farther than the eye could ever reach. The horizon was a painted line, curving gently as though even distance bent to the rules of this place.
The Domain.
The air here was clean, richer somehow, as if it had never known the taint of war or smoke. Noah inhaled deeply and felt his lungs lighten. For the first time since the fight with Arthur began, his shoulders eased.
A shadow fell across him. Then another. Then a third.
Three roars shook the field, rolling thunder that made the grass bow and ripple as if the blades themselves bent in worship.
