The town of Austmark stirred before sunrise. Lucian awoke to the scent of pine resin and sun-warmed stone. Outside his window, the village square looked pristine, almost sterile. The stones gleamed like they'd been scrubbed too often, the chalk lines from yesterday's Harmony Walk faint but still visible. He stepped outside, boots crunching softly on gravel, and ran his fingers across a fading footprint etched into the square.
They walked these same steps over and over, rehearsing their peace like lines in a play.
He crouched down, palm against the stone. Is survival worth this much silence?
Alice found him shortly after and tugged lightly on his sleeve. "Come on. You skipped breakfast."
She led him to a baker's stall tucked beneath a willow awning. The bread they purchased was laced with sage and honey—simple, nourishing. But Lucian noticed how the baker kept her eyes down, flinching slightly when a child hummed nearby.
