The territory did not wake gently.
By dawn, the unrest Aurelia had felt beneath her feet had surfaced in subtler, more unsettling ways. Paths shifted where none should have. Old boundary markers leaned at unfamiliar angles. Wolves woke with the lingering sense that something had passed through their dreams and left impressions that refused to fade.
The council chamber filled early.
Too early.
Aurelia stood just outside its doors, listening as raised voices echoed through the thick stone. The arguments were sharper than the night before, stripped of caution now that sleep had failed to soothe anyone's nerves.
"They cannot pretend this didn't happen."
"We cannot acknowledge it either!"
"The ground itself responded—"
"To her."
"That is the problem!"
Aurelia exhaled slowly.
Beside her, Mira folded her arms tightly across her chest. "They're panicking," she murmured. "They just don't want to admit it."
Aurelia nodded. Panic made people reckless. And councils are dangerous.
