The sun revealed its true colors, stripping the mainland of its shades.
Kneeling became meaningless before an absolute decision. Bent knees, one by one, forgot their purpose and accepted what had been lost.
The beads she left behind turned into alms of reluctant kindness, taken before the light permanently kissed their regrets.
Stalls reopened one by one. Merchants spoke in measured tones. Even children–usually careless at dawn–stayed close to their elders, watching more than playing. The land had not forgotten what had happened the day before, and no one dared pretend otherwise.
Hylisi stood at her doorway for a long moment before stepping outside.
The air was clear. Too clear.
Her gaze moved across the outskirts of the market, along stone paths and low roofs, and finally toward the forest line. Nothing threatened her openly. And yet, the silence felt heavier than noise.
She turned back inside.
