The ceasefire began not with a treaty, but with silence.
For the first time in seventeen months, no alarms blared in Axiom's command centers. No fracture sirens wailed across Silver Creek. The Citadel's Reset Core hummed at standby, its red pulse dimmed to amber. Even the wind seemed quieter—as if the world itself was holding its breath.
Luna stood on the roof of her house at dawn, watching smoke curl from chimneys instead of emergency flares. Below, kids rode bikes down Main Street. Mrs. Chen opened her bakery early, hanging a hand-painted sign: "Fresh bread. No anomalies detected."
It wasn't peace. Not yet.
But it was pause.
And pause, she'd learned, was where change started.
Her phone buzzed. One word:
Ready? —K
She tucked the cold iron key into her pocket and headed out.
