The silence that followed the breaking of the aetheric siege was not the dead, hollow silence of Silas's appraisal. It was the rich, full silence of a deep and satisfying breath held for a moment before release. The air in Aethelburg was no longer thin; it was potent, almost syrupy with life, each inhalation a heady draught of vitality. The city, for the first time in weeks, felt not like a fortress under attack, but like a wellspring.
The immediate evidence was everywhere. The pallid wheat in the northern fields shot up, stalks thickening, heads heavy with grain that ripened to a gold that seemed to capture and hold the sunlight. The listless sheep in the eastern hills grew frisky, their coats becoming improbably soft and thick, their bleats echoing with a newfound vigor. In the artisans' quarter, the wood was warm and willing again, the clay held its shape with a joyful memory, and the metal sang under the hammer.
