"The quietest moments carry the heaviest weight."
— Fenrir
Elsbeth.
The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The world around me, once a dizzying symphony of light and laughter, suddenly felt hollow. A sharp, cold edge cut through the warmth of the festival. The weight of it was unbearable, suffocating.
"Fen," I repeated, my voice louder this time, cutting through the unease that had begun to settle around us like a smothering blanket. My heart pounded, and I could feel my chest tightening. Something was wrong. I couldn't explain it. I just knew. "Something's happened. The children—"
Before I could finish, Fen's eyes snapped to mine, the intensity in them unmistakable. The storm that had always simmered beneath his calm exterior now fully visible.
"Elsbeth," he said, his voice low, controlled, but laced with urgency that sent a cold thrill through my chest. "I feel it too."
