The city of Aethelgard did not know it was dying. Far below the peaks of the northern highlands, the citizens moved with the casual indifference of people who believed the sun would always rise. Elara watched them through the lens of the rings, her consciousness stretched thin across the miles. She saw the market vendors shouting their prices, the children playing in the cobbled streets, and the scholars debating the origin of the recent lunar fluctuations. They were oblivious to the shivering stars above their heads.
How can you watch them and remain so calm? Elara asked, her voice projecting into the silent hall of the ruins. The rings felt heavy, like leaden shackles dragging at her very soul.
They are living because you are watching, Malphas replied. His voice was a faint tremor in
