The next dawn did not arrive with the gentle touch of light.
It arrived with pressure.
The air above the Inner Bastion felt heavier than it had any right to be, as if the world itself was holding its breath in anticipation of a rupture. The emerald glow on the horizon pulsed with a steady, patient rhythm like a heartbeat that refused to be ignored, radiating from a mind that had spent the night calculating the end of the human race.
Aegis stood at the edge of the departure platform, his fingers steady as he fastened the final clasp of his armor. It was not ceremonial plate, nor was it the glowing regalia of a king.
It was the same battle-worn set he had worn through a hundred skirmishes, reinforced and repaired so many times that the original metal was buried beneath layers of scarred alloy. It was armor that knew how to survive, which made it the only thing he trusted.
Bella watched him quietly, her silhouette outlined against the bruised purple of the pre-dawn sky.
