It didn't take long for silence to turn into something else.
Not peace. Never that. Silence like this always broke.
The battlefield was still shifting in the distance. Sections of Heaven being forced back into place, gods working where they could, angels pulling their wounded together, trying to rebuild something that didn't want to be rebuilt.
But near the center—where the Tribunal had stood, where the sky still refused to close—the angels gathered.
Not in formation. Not clean. Not perfect.
That was the first sign something had changed.
Their ranks had always been precise. Every wing in line. Every blade angled the same. Every breath in harmony.
Now? They drifted. Clusters instead of lines. Voices instead of commands. Some still held formation out of habit. Others stood apart, unsure. Others watched everything like they were waiting for someone to tell them what this all meant.
No one did.
