THE NIGHT HE CHOSE
“Now,” Ravik whispered,
“we begin.”
He did not move immediately.
Patience was part of the design.
Nightfall slept in layers. Outer patrol. Inner patrol. Rotations staggered to prevent pattern recognition. Kael was not careless — he was methodical. But methodical men relied on rhythm.
And rhythm could be studied.
For three nights, Ravik had done nothing.
He observed guard shifts. Counted seconds between rotations. Noted which warriors lingered at conversation points and which walked with strict discipline. He memorized the cadence of Nightfall’s breathing.
Lyra stood beside him, tense.
“You said no force,” she murmured.
“There will be no chaos,” Ravik replied calmly.
“That isn’t the same.”
He did not argue.
Because she was right.
—
Elara could not sleep.
