The silence that settled after that alignment wasn't heavy—it was functional. Each person there had already accepted their role, had already internalized what needed to be done, and now the atmosphere carried a focused, almost strategic quiet. The soft clinking of cutlery returned to fill the space for a few moments, not as a distraction, but as a natural interval between decision and action.
Damon was the first to break this rhythm.
He placed his hands on the table and stood up slowly, the movement fluid, controlled, as if his body were already completely recovered—and, in fact, it was. The slight tiredness that remained was more mental than physical, and even that was beginning to dissipate under the momentum of what was to come.
