The scream didn't just sound.
It existed.
It tore through the air like fabric being ripped apart, shook the stone until ancient mortar crumbled to dust, and rolled across the landscape in a wave of pure, undiluted power that made every living thing within reach stop and listen.
It was the sound of a god remembering it had once been free.
Conversation hung suspended in the war tent, maps unfurled, lanterns flickering, plans being carved into the air like blades into ice. Soren's voice was calm, steady, deliberate...
"I'll draw the beasts' attention. Lead them away from the main path. You continue with the procession—"
Ryse's protest came sharp and instant.
"Your Majesty, that's—"
Venrick's tone followed, measured but strained. "We can't leave you."
Soren's gloved hand pressed flat against the table. The candlelight quivered under the weight of his authority. "We can't afford to endanger these people any further."
