The silence Alaric left behind in the council granary was a physical weight. It was the sound of a bridge, meticulously and in good faith built from both sides, collapsing into an uncrossable chasm. Corvin stared at the space where the lore-keeper had stood, his knuckles still white from where they had pressed into the table. The word "hoarding" seemed to hang in the air, a toxic smoke.
Kaelen did not stay. He turned and walked out, his feet carrying him not to his dwelling, but back to the crystal cavern, to the sight of the reopened fissure and the sound of a child's simple, healing song.
