The Silence That Suffocates
The fire had burned to embers. The tower was hushed, every breath ragged, every heart heavy. The survivors sat huddled in corners, eyes darting between Dominic bound against the wall and Lena at the center, her crowns dim and wavering.
No one trusted sleep. No one trusted silence.
Dominic’s wrists were rubbed raw from the ropes. His head was bowed, but his gaze never left Lena. She felt it—fiery, pleading, a weight pressing against her soul.
Kael was a shadow among shadows, leaning casually with arms folded, but his smirk gleamed faintly in the firelight. He was waiting—for Lena to break, for Dominic to fall, for prophecy to prove him right.
Mireya sat cross-legged, her staff across her knees, etching lines into the stone with quiet mutters. Her silence was
