The tremors stopped just before dawn.
Not faded.
Not weakened.
Stopped.
The sudden stillness was so sharp it felt like an absence, like someone had ripped sound and breath and motion from the world in one pull. The compound held its silence with a strange reverence, as if the walls themselves were waiting for the next blow.
But it did not come.
Instead, the fog thinned.
The air lightened.
The pressure in the room broke like a fever.
Aria was the first to notice.
She was on her feet again, leaning heavily on Luca's arm, her body tired but steady. The ache in her bones had softened. The burning beneath her skin had quieted. The frantic pulse of the bloodline was now a low hum, like distant energy settling back into its roots.
"The pull is gone," she whispered.
Luca touched her cheek. "Are you sure?"
She nodded slowly, almost in disbelief. "He is not reaching for us. Not pushing. Not calling."
