The smoke reached them before the sound did.
Aerun stopped mid-step on the ridge, nostrils flaring as the bitter scent cut through the morning air. It was thin—distant—but unmistakable.
Burned wood.Burned grain.
Lyrae felt it too.
She turned slowly. "That's… behind us."
Aerun did not speak.
They stood there, watching the valley they had left behind. At first, nothing seemed different. The river still wound through the land. The rooftops still caught the light.
Then a bell rang.
Once.Twice.
Too fast.
Lyrae's breath hitched. "They're calling everyone out."
Aerun was already moving.
They reached the village at a run.
Not openly. Not boldly. Aerun took them through the river shallows, then up through the rear fields, staying low beneath the cover of stone walls and sheds.
The square was full.
Every villager stood gathered around the herald stone. Armed retainers flanked the edges—not holy vanguard, but Throne soldiers bearing writs stamped with divine assent.
At the center stood the man from the well.
His hands were bound.
Aerun felt something cold settle in his chest.
Lyrae whispered, "Talrek."
A Throne officer stepped forward, scroll in hand.
"By order of the Karveth Throne," he declared, "this settlement is charged with harboring an unrecorded anomaly and obstructing divine alignment."
Murmurs broke into cries.
"We told him to leave!" someone shouted."He did leave!" another screamed.
The officer nodded calmly. "That is noted."
He gestured.
Soldiers dragged the bound man forward.
Aerun stepped out from cover.
"Stop," he said.
The word carried.
Every head turned.
Fear rippled through the square.
The officer's eyes widened—then narrowed. "There you are."
Aerun walked forward slowly, hands empty, sword still wrapped.
"I left," he said. "As ordered."
"Yes," the officer replied. "But you were here."
He unrolled the scroll.
"Presence is sufficient," he continued. "Influence persists."
Lyrae stepped beside Aerun. "You're punishing them to provoke him."
The officer smiled thinly. "Correction requires demonstration."
Aerun's jaw tightened.
"Release them," he said.
"And you surrender," the officer replied instantly.
Lyrae spun toward him. "Aerun—"
"No," he said softly.
The warmth at his back pulsed.
The air shifted.
The soldiers stiffened as the familiar pressure began to distort.
Aerun raised one hand—not in threat, but in warning.
"If you continue," he said, "this will end badly."
"For whom?" the officer asked.
He nodded once.
The herald stone flared.
Divine script burned brighter, carving itself deeper into the stone—and into the ground beneath the villagers' feet.
The pressure spiked.
Children cried out. Adults collapsed to their knees, gasping.
Aerun staggered.
Not from force.
From choice.
Lyrae grabbed his arm, voice breaking. "They're anchoring it to them. If you push back—"
"I know," Aerun whispered.
The warmth surged violently.
The cloth at his back strained.
Aerun reached behind him.
Not to draw.
Just to loosen—
"Don't!" Lyrae screamed.
The officer watched, eyes alight with triumph.
"Do it," he urged. "Prove them right."
Aerun froze.
He saw it clearly then.
If he acted—
The stone would shatter
The pressure would vanish
And the villagers would become collateral
If he didn't—
The punishment would continue
Slowly
Legally
Recorded
There was no clean outcome.
Aerun dropped to his knees.
The square went silent.
Lyrae stared at him in horror.
"I surrender," Aerun said.
The warmth at his back fell still.
The pressure eased instantly.
The villagers gasped, collapsing into one another as the anchor loosened.
The officer smiled.
"Wise," he said.
Soldiers moved in.
Lyrae lunged, but a soldier seized her arm, wrenching it behind her back.
"No!" she shouted. "This isn't justice!"
The officer turned to her. "You are unrecorded. You are fortunate we noticed."
He faced Aerun again.
"You will come with us," he said. "Alive."
Aerun did not resist as chains were placed around his wrists—cold, heavy, etched with suppression marks.
He met Lyrae's gaze.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly.
She struggled against the soldier holding her. "This isn't your fault!"
Aerun looked past her—to the villagers.
Alive.
Shaken.
But alive.
"That's enough," he said.
The officer gestured.
"Take him."
As they dragged Aerun away, the herald stone dimmed.
Correction complete.
Night fell over the village.
Lyrae sat bound near the edge of the square, guarded loosely now that the danger had passed.
She watched the road where Aerun had been taken.
She did not cry.
She memorized everything.
Far away, Talrek Vos received the report.
Target surrendered.Village preserved.Compliance achieved.
Talrek closed his eyes briefly.
"Even when he leaves," he murmured, "they still burn."
He opened his eyes.
"Prepare the next phase."