Elion opened his mouth to reply, a teasing remark already forming, but the words never came.
The wind stopped.
Solara's robes remained suspended around her, their folds caught in a breeze that no longer existed. A strand of golden hair hung across her veil, perfectly still, while Elion stood beside her with his lips slightly parted.
Neither noticed.
Across the encampment, a guard froze halfway through a step. Flames stood motionless above burning wood, their sparks suspended like tiny stars. Xavier remained beside the altar, his eyes fixed on Albert, who had been about to say something.
Even the distant procession fell silent. Beyond the gates, beasts, warriors, and sleeping families were held in the same absolute stillness.
The color began to fade.
Gold drained from the inscriptions. The fires lost their crimson brilliance, and the grass became a pallid grey. Above them, the heavens surrendered their color until the entire landscape resembled an immense charcoal painting.
