The settlement did not look like a battlefield.
That was the cruelest part.
Smoke curled lazily from low chimneys, the smell of baking grain and damp earth drifting on the air. Children ran between clustered homes, laughter sharp and careless. An old woman sat near the road mending cloth, her movements slow, practiced, utterly unaware that forces capable of tearing the ground apart were now orbiting the place she called home.
The bond-field reacted immediately.
Not flaring.
Compressing.
It pulled inward just enough to keep itself from brushing against too many lives at once. She felt it instinctively, the way a muscle tightened to avoid strain.
"You're doing that consciously now," Marrow observed as they walked.
She didn't look at them. "No. I'm listening."
Marrow smiled faintly. "Even better."
