The pressure hit like a wall.
No, like the sky itself decided to fold in on the world.
Lindarion stopped mid-step as every window in the palace shattered in unison.
A soundless shatter.
No boom.
No warning.
Just a pressure wave that rolled through the city like a god exhaling.
Guards dropped to one knee in the courtyard.
Servants collapsed in the halls.
Jaren gritted his teeth, fists clenched tight enough that blood ran between his knuckles. His eyes wide, focused, but terrified.
Not of what he saw.
Of what he felt.
And still—
Lindarion kept walking.
'This isn't pressure. This is presence. Something's pushing against the veil.'
Ashwing dropped from the smoke overhead, eyes wild, wings twitching. "It's not here yet. But it feels like it owns the place."
Lindarion didn't stop.
Didn't speak.
