The horizon didn't move.
It never had.
Even now, after everything—after the fracture, after the contact, after the realization that something unseen could reach her without warning—it remained exactly where it had always been.
Still.
Waiting.
But it didn't feel distant anymore.
That was the difference.
Liora stood where she was, her gaze fixed forward, her breathing steady, her posture unchanged. The air had settled again after the rupture in reality, but it hadn't returned to what it was before. There was a subtle tension woven into it now, something quiet and constant, like the space itself was aware of what had just happened—and was waiting for what would come next.
Behind her, Cairis shifted.
Then stepped forward.
And stopped directly in front of her.
Blocking her path.
"You're not going any closer."
His voice was firm. Not raised, not aggressive—but absolute. It wasn't a suggestion. It wasn't concern phrased as advice.
It was a decision.
