The first dawn after Hunger’s erasure is silent.
Not empty.
Not broken.
Not afraid.
Simply… unfamiliar.
The sky rises without its usual tremor of threat.
The world inhales without flinching.
And for the first time in any memory—from wolves to titans to gods—
the air is not shaped by what might be taken.
It is shaped by what might grow.
⸻
Zane stands on the sanctum balcony with our child in his arms, staring at the horizon like a man trying to recognize a new face the sun has chosen to wear.
Jason steps beside him, voice dazed.
“The absence is measurable,” he murmurs.
“My instruments don’t even know how to categorize it yet.”
Zane arches a brow.
“What does that mean?”
Jason exhales, almost laughing.
“It means the universe is lighter.
Fundamentally.
Mathematically.
Spiri
