Ashes Beneath a Silent Sky
Right now, the Lavahound specialists were nearly panicked. Ash and far-off blood scents rode the breeze along the rampart, touching skin like winter breath. Veterans used to battles wreathed in flame and blade stood frozen, chests heaving, glances darting. Unease pulsed behind every stare.
Facing Leon's question, silence held everyone back at first.
Eye contact passed between them, brief but heavy. Silence hung there instead of speech.
He stood there silent, yet his presence demanded attention. One wrong word might change everything. Their replies needed weight, not haste. This person wasn't someone to brush off with casual talk. Each syllable had to land just right.
