Night settled wrong.
It came too quickly, like a decision made without discussion. One moment the horizon still held bruised traces of dusk, the next it folded inward, swallowing color and distance alike. Fires flared across the encampments, sharp points of light against a dark that felt closer than it should.
Aurelia felt it before she saw it.
Not the Voidborne.
Not the Gate.
Attention.
She stood on the Stronghold’s outer parapet, stone cool beneath her palms, eyes fixed on the moving constellation of torches below. Kane leaned against the wall beside her, silent for once, reading the same tension she felt but couldn’t yet name.
“They’re not leaving,” he said finally.
“No,” Aurelia replied. “They’re settling.”
Below them, camps had rearranged with purpose. Supply lines tightened.
