They hadn't moved in hours.
The ruined house around them was still, save for the distant crackling of fire and the occasional thud from somewhere far off—like the city itself was groaning in pain. The furniture was overturned, the curtains burnt at the edges, the air thick with dust and ash.
They sat low and quiet. Former soldiers, mercenaries, adventurers—now refugees in a house that wasn't theirs.
"I still can't believe this is happening," Reva murmured. "It's like the war all over again… only this time, there's no side to fight for."
"No one's giving orders," Fen added. "No horns. No banners. Just… silence."
Nyric paced near the window again, squinting through cracks. "Where's the response? There were kings here. Dukes. Mages. Nobles. Why aren't there signals? Flares? Any word from the other kingdoms?"
"Maybe there is no one left to send it," Torric said grimly.
Cael sat in the corner, leaning against the wall, hands clasped together. His eyes were hard, distant.
"Nobles don't bleed first," he muttered. "They wait until the walls fall, then pretend to be brave."
Ravik looked over. "Still carrying that weight?"
"Wouldn't you?"
Ravik didn't answer at first. Then: "They really did you dirty back then, didn't they?"
Cael didn't reply. Just looked down, jaw set.
Ravik let the silence hang. "You don't need to say it. I know what they're like."
A heavy quiet settled between them again—until Reva broke it.
"This thing—whatever it is—where did it start? The priest? The ritual?"
"Something about the Grand Healing," Torric said. "Everything changed after that."
"Could be the demons," Fen offered. "Maybe they cursed the ritual. Used the priest to ignite it."
"But that would mean they've been waiting," Nyric said. "Watching. And the priest didn't even act like a puppet—he just… broke."
"Or maybe he didn't break," Cael said. "Maybe he burned out. Like something too powerful pushed through."
"That makes it worse," Reva whispered.
"What if it wasn't demons?" Ravik said, voice low. "What if it was the Aetherstone itself? We've built everything around it—magic, blessings, even our prayers. The Grand Healing was the biggest use of it in years. What if we cracked something open?"
"Or forced something awake," Nyric added.
"Too much power in one place," Fen said. "Too much faith in something we never understood."
"Or maybe," Reva said quietly, "the gods are just done with us."
Cael's gaze lifted slightly. "Maybe this isn't punishment," he said. "Maybe it's just what happens when you tear at the world too long. It tears back."
The others fell quiet again.
Then Ravik asked, "So which is it? Demons? Aetherstone? Gods? Us?"
Cael looked around at them. "Parts of all of them, maybe. But we're still guessing."
"And the worst part is," Reva said, "whatever's true… we're too late."
From outside, the wind pushed harder against the window frame. Ash danced past like slow, gray snow.
And from deep in the streets, a muffled shriek rose up—long and ragged, then suddenly cut short.
None of them moved.