Kael reached the outer edge of the basin just as the light began to shift.
Morning didn't arrive all at once here. It filtered in slowly, hesitant, as if the land itself was unsure whether it should acknowledge the sun. Shadows stretched unnaturally long before snapping back into place.
Kael stepped onto solid ground.
Sound returned.
Not fully.
The world behaved normally again—wind whispered through tall grass, distant movement carried faint echoes—but something was different. Sound no longer followed him automatically. It lagged. Waited.
He noticed it when he turned.
His coat shifted, but the fabric made no noise until a moment later. His boots struck stone, but the echo came delayed, dull and incomplete.
Kael frowned slightly.
So that was the rule now.
Noise required permission.
He exhaled and moved forward.
The land ahead opened into a shallow pass flanked by jagged stone. A natural choke point. Too quiet.
Kael slowed.
The silence thickened—not absolute like the basin, but selective. He felt presence before he saw it.
Three figures emerged from behind the rocks.
Not house guards.
These moved differently.
Their stances were loose but predatory, weight distributed for sudden movement rather than control. One carried a short blade. Another a hooked weapon designed to catch limbs. The third kept his hands empty, fingers flexing.
Kael stopped.
The men didn't speak.
They rushed him.
Kael moved.
There was no clash of steel.
No shout.
No warning.
He stepped forward as the first blade swung and vanished from where he should have been. The attacker overextended, momentum carrying him past empty space.
Kael's shoulder struck the man's chest.
Not hard.
Precisely.
The impact didn't sound like much—but the body lifted, thrown sideways into stone hard enough to crack it.
The second attacker reacted too late.
Kael was already inside his range.
A pivot. A step. A shift of weight.
The hooked weapon caught nothing but air as Kael's elbow drove into the man's ribs. The sound came after the body folded, sharp and wrong.
The third man hesitated.
That was enough.
Kael crossed the remaining distance in silence.
No strike.
Just presence.
The man stumbled backward, panic flaring as his footing vanished beneath him. He fell hard, breath leaving him in a wheeze.
Kael stood still.
Only then did sound catch up.
Stone cracked.
Weapons clattered.
The men groaned.
Kael exhaled slowly, letting noise return to him fully.
This wasn't elegance.
It was efficiency.
Flashy didn't always mean visible.
Sometimes it meant the world failing to warn you before it broke.
Kael turned and walked on.
Behind him, the attackers remained on the ground—alive, but thoroughly corrected.