The days folded into each other, blurring into one long watch.
The Shadows moved like ghosts, never seen. They took turns lying on rooftops, pressed into the dust, or crouched behind the half-fallen walls that overlooked the governor's compound. From sunrise to nightfall, someone always had eyes on Lumingu. Someone always knew which cell Faizah was in, when the guards changed, and how the candles flickered in the hall outside her door.
She had not spoken once since the first interrogation. Not to curse, not to beg, not even to ask for water. The soldiers came with their taunts and insults, but they might as well have been shouting at stone. Every blow they struck against her silence only made that silence heavier.
At first, the Shadows who watched pitied her. Then they began to admire her.
