They didn't stop running until the cliffs turned sharp again.
Leon's lungs burned, but he kept moving. Mira was already ahead, checking every rise before motioning them forward. Tomas stayed close behind, his knives drawn, breath ragged. None of them looked back.
Not until the sound stopped.
Not the roar. Not the wind.
Everything.
Stopped.
Leon slid to a halt beneath a jut of rock, holding up a fist. Mira froze. Tomas stumbled, caught himself, and pressed low behind a fallen pillar.
The silence wasn't natural.
It was waiting.
Leon turned slowly. The valley behind them no longer glowed. No red fire. No rising ash.
Just stillness.
Then came the voice.
Not loud. Not spoken.
It threaded through the rock.
"Return what was taken."
Leon staggered a step back. Mira reached for his arm but stopped when she saw his face. Pale. Eyes wide. Not with fear—clarity.
"You heard that?" she whispered.
He nodded once.
