The night was deep and unbroken, swallowing the ruins in silence. The district they had emerged into was a husk of stone, its streets cracked and its houses leaning like corpses that refused to fall. The smell of soot still clung to the air though years had passed since the fires. No wind stirred, no animals prowled, and the silence felt heavy, as if the ruins themselves were holding their breath.
Kael walked at the front.
His steps echoed faintly over broken cobblestone, his figure tall and dark against the pale glow of the moon. Behind him, the survivors followed—stumbling, whispering, clutching their arms and their rags as though they were afraid the night itself might devour them.
Some were gaunt with hunger, their eyes sunken; others bore wounds that still bled sluggishly. Yet not
