The night of the soul surge began quietly.
No horns. No warnings. Only the wind shifting direction—carrying the scent of snow and silver.
Seph sat near the ceremonial platform, wrapped in a thick cloak. The soul-lamp flickered steadily beside her, casting soft glows over parchment, maps, and scattered runes.
But her hands trembled.
Not from cold.
From the pulse.
It had started an hour ago—gentle at first, like the ripple of a heartbeat out of sync. But now her body buzzed with it. Her vision shimmered every time she blinked.
The gateway was awakening again.
Leo entered, wiping blood from a fresh cut on his brow. “Border patrol skirmish. Some zealots didn't get the message."
Seph looked up. “Did they get it now?"
“They're not going home." He dropped beside her. “But I'm not here t
