Guarantees used to arrive with morning.
With supply wagons.
With patrol schedules.
With the assumption that if something went wrong, someone else would fix it.
That assumption does not survive the night.
The city goes to sleep knowing there will be no relief at dawn.
No announcement promises protection. No authority reassures them that the ring beyond the roads is temporary. The outsiders remain where they are—visible enough to be counted, distant enough to deny intent.
The guarantee of tomorrow as usual is gone.
And everyone feels it.
Lanterns burn lower than normal.
Not for stealth.
For honesty.
People want to see one another’s faces in the dark.
Kael walks the perimeter long after the city should be resting. He doesn’t pace like a guard. He stops where people have gathered,
