The words hung between them, heavier than the steam rising from the fryer.
Lyra hadn't said it as a joke. Not the way she sometimes softened her sharp edges with a crooked smile. She said it with her bow still resting against the counter, her fingers tapping the grain of the wood like a drumbeat only she could hear.
"The demons," she repeated. "It's been too quiet."
Inigo set the oil strainer aside, his hands steady but his brow set. "Quiet isn't peace. Quiet is waiting."
Riko looked up from the till, nervous. "You mean… like when the plaza goes silent right before someone throws a punch?"
"Exactly," Inigo said.
Maddy swallowed. "So what do we do?"
Lyra glanced at Inigo. "We ask. The guild should have eyes wider than ours."
He nodded once. "Then we go."
They left the stall in Riko and Maddy's hands, a chalkboard scrawl promising BACK SOON — COOKING BUSINESS. It wasn't untrue. Just not the kind of business the customers expected.
