*Scene: Neutral Pov**
The wind had changed again.
Asher stood at the top of the south tower, his hands gripping the stone ledge as dusk slipped into night. The valley stretched beneath him—black pine, steep rock, and the river that once fed the mountain like a vein. But there was something wrong with the air. It felt… emptied.
He closed his eyes, tilted his head, and listened.
Silence.
Too much of it.
No boots crunching on gravel. No low voices from the patrols. Even the usual call-and-response of the perimeter guards was missing.
A flash of heat licked down his spine.
He turned sharply, cloak sweeping behind him, and descended the stairs with controlled urgency. The great hall echoed as he entered—too still, too hollow. The hearth still burned, but no one stood watch. No attendant
