The streets of Regina did not sense the shift at first, for the afternoon carried on in its usual rhythm, footsteps passing, voices rising and falling, the ordinary life of the city unaware of the fracture that had already begun to form beneath it.
Elara walked among them with quiet composure, her presence calm yet watchful, her gaze moving not idly but with intent, her awareness stretching further than sight alone allowed, catching the subtle wrongness that pressed faintly against the edges of her senses.
The sunlight touched her lightly, warm against her skin, though it did not ease the tension that coiled beneath, her fingers brushing briefly against her wrist where the mark lingered, dim but alive.
Something was off.
Not loud.
Not obvious.
But wrong.
"…hmm," she murmured softly.
"…you're closer."
Her steps slowed.
Not enough to draw attention.
But enough to listen.
