(Planet Juxta, Cult Civilian Quarters)
The glow of the broadcast screens still lingered in every home, shop, and tavern, the echo of Charles's voice replaying in people's minds long after the transmission had cut.
Silence hung in the air, heavy and unshakable, as though the entire planet was holding its breath.
Some sat slumped at their tables, heads buried in their arms, unable to process what they had just heard.
Mothers clutched their children tighter, their trembling lips whispering prayers to the missing Soron, who was too far away to hear them, while fathers stared blankly at the walls, their thoughts running only to questions of survival and whether or not they would even survive long enough to see the next morning?
Some denied the severity of the situation, their fragile sense of reality rejecting the possibility of defeat.
While others behaved like all hope was lost, their pessimism making them believe that this was the end of the Cult.
