By sundown, the plaza was full, packed shoulder to shoulder from the podiums to the outer barricades, stretching from the highest viewing tiers to the stone base of the bell tower.
Tension shimmered in the air, stretched thin like a held breath just waiting to snap. Every faction had shown up. Uniforms of every rank lined the barriers, elders in ceremonial coats took guarded positions near the central stage, and citizen volunteers clutched handheld viewers, shifting restlessly. A thin but visible crescent of press clustered near the northern arc, cameras already raised, every lens aimed straight at the stage.
The ballot boxes hadn’t even opened yet, but it already felt like something irreversible had begun. The kind of moment history would reduce to a single line, even though everyone he
