This was the moment they had all been waiting for—not because it announced itself with the grandeur of a prophecy or the weight of divine command.
But because it arrived exactly how the most dangerous moments always did: quietly, patiently, and perfectly in step with the rhythms of a plan that had been set into motion long before anyone began to count time in hours or battles.
If it turned out to be a trap—and by now, even the slowest among them had considered the possibility—then it was a trap. So be it.
They had walked into worse and made it out alive, and even if they didn't, that wasn't the point.
Because at this level, concern was a luxury no one indulged in. Doubt was a leash, and none of them could afford to wear one.
Orders were orders. And something—something old enough to recognize silence as hunger and stillness as readiness—was waiting to be fed.
