The hush that fell over the hall was not peace.
It pressed in from every side, thick and airless, a stillness that had nothing to do with calm and everything to do with three lives colliding where none of them were meant to meet. The kind of quiet that made even breath feel intrusive, as though the walls itself might recoil if disturbed.
Eris had halted halfway through retreat. Her body leaned toward the corridor, already angled for flight, yet her feet betrayed her, rooted to the mosaic floor as if the stone had claimed her. One step. That was all she needed. One step and she could be gone.
She did not take it.
Caelen and Soren filled the doorway, blocking the light, blocking the future. They stood apart yet opposed, like two seasons locked in a single hour. One carried the cold clarity of winter, sharp and merciless. The other bore the ache of things left unfinished, of promises remembered too well. Their gazes held her fast. Eris could not tell which hurt more.
