Kael woke to silence.
Not the comfortable kind—the hush before dawn, the muffled stillness of sleep-heavy rooms—but the sharp, unnatural quiet that pressed in from every side. The kind that meant something was wrong. It wrapped around his chest like wire, tight and invisible. Too much absence. No footfalls. No late whispers from down the corridor. No rustle of sheets or soft clicks from old radiators. Just that stillness, thick and unnatural, like the building itself was holding its breath.
Then the sirens started.
Not loud, not panicked—just a low, steady pulse that reverberated through the walls like a heartbeat turned machine. Each beat felt like a countdown. His chest tightened, lungs forgetting how to breathe. The air tasted metallic. Cold sweat pooled at the base of his spine.
Sw
