Chapter 43: Maxveil
The settlement had gone quiet. Not the kind of quiet that brought peace—but the kind that crawled beneath the skin. The kind that made people stop breathing just to hear something other than silence.
Walls still stood, some barely. Shutters hung loose. A few broken signs rocked in the wind, useless now. Ash stepped into the open square. What was once a marketplace had turned into a graveyard.
The people gathered in a tight knot, no more than a few dozen. Some leaned on each other. Others just stared at the ground. No one spoke.
Ash scanned their faces. The sparkle was gone. What was left was tired. Hollow. Burned out. They weren't looking for answers. They just wanted it to stop.
He spotted a woman off to the side. She held a small bundle to her chest, arms curled around it like a shield. Her eyes were shut. Her lips moved, whispering something too soft to hear. The baby squirmed, small and fragile, untouched by what had happened but surrounded by it all the same.
Ash looked away.
He turned toward the edge of the group.
Mark stood there. His back was straight, but barely. He leaned against a broken pillar, his staff resting beside him. Deep lines cut across his face. His eyes didn't drift. They held sharp focus—tired, yes—but unbroken.
Max's voice broke the stillness.
"Old man."
Mark looked up. The sharpness in his gaze didn't waver, but something in his face shifted.