Rika's face went through several things.
She did not answer.
Which was, itself, an answer.
Esvan's jaw set.
Something moved behind the fine-featured eyes — a calculation, a decision, the particular stubbornness of a person who has decided that whatever is happening, they are not going to be the one who backs down from it.
The hand moved again.
Toward Raven.
Raven's finger moved first.
It was a small gesture — one finger, lifted from his side, the motion of a man operating a switch rather than performing an action.
The world went white.
Then black.
Then — nothing moved.
The street froze.
Not slowly. Not with a gradual slowing of motion that gave anyone time to process it. Between one frame and the next, everything stopped. The merchant three doors down, mid-step. The child at the well, mid-pour. The woman at the window, mid-breath. A dog, mid-scratch.
The colors drained out of everything.
