The night in Regina did not carry the same restless pulse as the distant city where chaos had begun, for its silence was older, deeper, settled like something that had endured too much to be easily disturbed, yet Alessandro stood within it with a stillness that did not belong to peace, his posture rigid though outwardly composed, his gaze fixed beyond the horizon as though distance itself were nothing to him.
The faint wind brushed against his coat, stirring it just enough to break the illusion of calm, and his fingers curled slowly at his sides, the movement subtle yet deliberate, betraying the tension he did not allow into his face.
There was no visible threat before him, no sound that called alarm, and yet something within him had shifted, something that tightened deep in his chest with a certainty he could not ignore.
