The town square had never held so many people, and never felt so divided.
Mayor Prescott stood on the raised platform where announcements were made, his usually composed face tight with barely controlled fury.
Behind him, three members of the town council flanked a small table bearing a single black cloth—the traditional covering for matters too grave for public discussion.
But this morning, there would be no privacy.
Lucian's group emerged from the side streets carrying their tokens of remembrance like weapons of defiance. Henrik's metal sapling caught the morning sun.
Vera's painted memorial sign drew gasps from the crowd.
Tom's father's fire captain badge gleamed against his guard uniform, a contradiction that made several onlookers step back in alarm.
"There," Mayor Prescott announced, his voice carrying across the square with practiced authority. "walk the architects of our disruption." he spat out the last word as if it were poison.
