The morning after the gathering broke with a tension that did not dissipate with daylight.

Varenth did not wake all at once. It stirred in pockets—district by district, street by street—like a body testing which wounds still hurt when touched. The river ran steady, indifferent, carrying reflections of the towers as it always had, but above it, voices rose early, already sharp with opinion. Doors opened more slowly. Footsteps hesitated before committing to a direction. Even the air seemed ...