The silence broke.
Not by sound.
But by pressure.
It was as if the forest itself had been holding its breath. The leaves, once stirred by the night wind, now stood still, suspended in an unnatural instant, as if caught by invisible threads. The rustling ceased. The distant song of some nocturnal insect vanished. Even the air seemed to wait.
The shadows, however, did not retreat. They did not dissipate. On the contrary—they bent. Bowed like servants paying homage to something greater, as if recognizing, in a near-ritual gesture, the presence that approached. There was no defiance in them, only acceptance.
