Aria
The estate grew too quiet.
Aria had lived in this house long enough to recognize its rhythms. The hum of guards rotating posts. The faint crackle of radios down the hall. The soft clang of gates during shift changes. The rustle of leaves through the open courtyard windows.
But now, none of it sounded right.
Everything felt muted.
Distant.
As if the world had been wrapped in cloth.
Aria sat against the headboard, her hands folded over her belly, while the doctor busied himself with equipment he was pretending to adjust. Rosetta stayed glued to her side, fingers intertwined with hers, her eyes trained on Aria's face more than the monitors.
Yet the silence pressed more heavily than either of them.
Aria's breath trembled. She felt the shift, the same way she felt a storm before it broke in the sky. The air inside the room thickened, warm in patches, cold in others. A faint ringing echoed near the walls.
Rosetta felt it too. She shivered and rubbed her arms.
