That was the first problem.
The second was that they all were tired from the previous battle.
Another tremor rolled through the recovery zone. It was not sharp enough to knock people down, but deep enough to rattle metal and make loose ash jump.
Conversations stopped mid-sentence. Medics froze with hands hovering over bandages. Someone swore under their breath.
Ren felt it travel up through his boots, into his knees, then settle behind his ribs like a held breath.
"That wasn't an aftershock," Ilyas said quietly.
"No," Nyxa replied, standing a little straighter. "That was redistribution."
Elara looked between them. "In normal words."
"The ground is deciding where it wants to be hot," Ren said. "And where it doesn't."
Nyxa glanced at him, almost approving.
Far to the south, the air shimmered again.
Not fire exactly but more like heat bending the world out of shape. The plume that had risen earlier didn't fade. It widened, slow and steady, bleeding orange into the sky.
