The temple halls hummed with a strange unity in the days that followed. Messengers moved in and out, priests and soldiers worked side by side, and for once the endless arguments were quiet.
Preparations for defense were well underway—fortifications rose along the city walls, and supply lines were secured.
The people had something they hadn't possessed in a long time: a common cause.
To everyone else, things seemed to be going well. Yet for Kana, a quiet dissonance lingered.
She found herself standing apart from the noise of activity, her hand unconsciously clutching at her chest as though trying to hold on to something slipping away.
Each passing day, her reflection in polished glass or water looked less like hers—her eyes carried a divine light even when she tried to dim it, her expression unreadable, almost detached.
Lysera and Irielle noticed. They always noticed.
They cornered her one evening as the three of them walked down a side corridor in the temple.
