By the time the moon reached its highest point, the town had already decided Lena’s fate.
She felt it before she saw it—the way the night tightened, the way the air tasted of iron and old magic. Windows that once glowed warm now went dark as she passed. Doors shut without sound. The streetlamps flickered, then steadied, casting long, unforgiving shadows that followed her like accusations.
Eli walked beside her, silent, tense, every step measured. He had stopped trying to hide it now—the way his senses stretched outward, the way his shoulders squared as if bracing for impact. Whatever illusion of normalcy the town had worn was gone.
They reached the square.
The Elders stood in a half-circle beneath the oak, their cloaks heavy, their faces carved into expressions of grim certainty. Hunte
