The silence of the Oakhaven square was not the silence of peace, but the heavy, suffocating quiet of a boneyard. The emerald mist had cleared, but it left behind a lingering, oily residue on the snow and a metallic taste in Kaelen's mouth. His Silver-Kin warriors were still reeling, their senses scrambled by the Scent-Breaker toxin, wandering like ghosts amidst the grisly calligraphy of their fallen brothers. They were elite soldiers, yet without their noses, they moved with the clumsy uncertainty of newborn pups, their world stripped of its depth and warning.
Kaelen stood at the center of the name "G W E N," his silver blade lowered but his heart thundering against his ribs. He knew the Viper hadn't truly left. A predator of that caliber didn't just vanish into the ether; they repositioned, recalibrated, and waited for the moment their prey's focus wavered. The air felt thin, biting, and dangerously stagnant.
