The city remained quiet as they moved deeper inside.
Not the empty quiet of abandonment, but something stranger. Streets stretched wide and clean, stone laid with care, buildings rising in orderly rows that spoke of wealth and planning. On the outer islands, silence had always meant ruin or fear. Here, it felt imposed. Maintained.
Noel walked at an unhurried pace, boots echoing softly against the stone as the group spread out behind him. Shops stood intact with shutters half-lowered. Banners hung unmoving between buildings. Fountains sat dry but undamaged, basins free of cracks or neglect. Nothing here looked looted. Nothing looked broken.
And yet, no one was walking the streets.
