The night deepened, and with it, the atmosphere within the outpost curdled. The garrison fires hissed as the wood turned to white ash, casting long, skeletal shadows that danced against the high stone walls. Aden remained motionless on his stone bench, his dark steel blade across his lap. He looked like a statue carved from the very night itself, save for the rhythmic, faint sapphire pulse in his eyes that matched the carmine glow of the boy at his feet.
Eren was no longer just breathing; he was vibrating. Within the boy's solar plexus, the raw, jagged shards of Resonance were being ground down, polished by the repetitive cycle of the State of Equilibrium. The "Expansion Ache" that had threatened to tear his meridians apart was being replaced by a dense, liquid heat. He was becoming an anchor, just as Aden had commanded.
A sudden, sharp change in the wind made Aden's hand tighten on his hilt.
