A long structure dominated the far side of the square. Low. Wide. It looked like a temple. Or maybe a council hall. Its roof was jagged, like wings half-folded. A single brazier burned green flame at the entrance.
And standing beside it—
A soldier.
Or something close.
Gray-skinned, but taller. Armor of dark steel lashed over raw muscle. A blade sheathed along the back. Helmet tucked under one arm. Red eyes narrow, lips pulled into a faint scowl.
His gaze flicked toward Lindarion.
Then held.
Lindarion kept walking. Head down.
The soldier didn't move. Just followed him with his eyes. Silent.
'Do not engage.'
Ashwing pulsed faintly in his coat. Tense. Ready.
Lindarion crossed the square.
Turned down another corridor, this one narrower, barely wide enough for a cart. No one followed. But the air shifted.
The people didn't react to him.
But they knew he was there.
Not like guards spotting a stranger.
More like… a city holding its breath.
