Kane’s POV

Silence has a smell.

It’s sharp and metallic, like blood on cold stone, and it hits me the moment I step into the fractured training hall.

The walls are cracked. Not superficially—violently. Ancient stone split as if it were clay. A pillar lies half-collapsed, dust still drifting in the air. The runes carved into the floor flicker weakly, strained, like they barely survived whatever storm just passed through.

And in the center of it all stands Scarlett.

Not shaking.

Not ...