By the time dawn began to breathe against the horizon, the outskirts of the mainland were already crowded.
Familiar faces gathered in uneasy silence–merchants who had closed their stalls early the day before, hunters who had watched from a distance, men and women who bore bandages where tongues once were. They did not stand shoulder to shoulder, nor did they cluster for comfort. Each kept a measured distance, as though proximity itself carried risk.
Among them stood three unfamiliar figures.
Their presence was unmistakable. Their posture was upright, their movements controlled, their gazes steady without being arrogant. They spoke little, yet others instinctively gave them space. These were not warriors or cultivators, but leaders–men whose authority came from order, commerce, and quiet command rather than force. Heads of mainland trade, accustomed to negotiation, now standing before power they did not control.
The mainland itself seemed to wait.
