AREN'S POV
The morning began with a fracture.
Not the kind that split stone or sky, but the kind that spread quietly through people—the subtle realization that the world they had woken into was no longer waiting for permission. Aren sensed it before the first alarm sounded, before the Citadel's sentinels shifted uneasily on their watch posts. It moved through the Wells like a change in current, a deep realignment that carried intention rather than chaos.
He stood alone in the Chamber of Resonance, the vast circular room beneath the Citadel where the oldest Well pulsed softly beneath a lattice of living stone. Light moved through the chamber in slow arcs, refracting off the walls as if the room itself were breathing. Aren had come here at dawn, drawn by the Echo's quiet insistence. It no longer shouted. It invited.
He placed his palm against the central dais and closed his eyes.
This time, instead of visions, he felt distance.
Not separation—but reach.
