Liora did not trust stillness anymore.
That realization settled quietly, without drama, without resistance. It simply existed—like everything else that had begun to change inside this space. The ground beneath her feet was steady. The air carried its usual weight. The horizon remained sealed, faintly tense, as if something on the other side had chosen to wait rather than press forward again.
Nothing was happening.
And that was exactly what made it worse.
Because she no longer believed that "nothing" meant absence.
It could just as easily mean preparation.
Her fingers rested loosely at her side, relaxed in appearance but monitored in thought. She didn't clench them. She didn't move them intentionally.
She just watched.
Every minor twitch, every subtle adjustment—she observed it with the same focus she would give an enemy.
That alone said enough.
"…You're doing it again."
Cairis's voice came low, closer than before.
Liora didn't look at him immediately.
"…Doing what?"
