The bell tolled again. Fourth call. The Rite required ignition at the fifth.
Instead, the sky above the Half-Light Terrace turned gold—not from fire, but from the flare of a single, impossible choice.
To be continued in Dilemma of Devotion – Ch.2, Ep. 5: “The Weight of Mercy”
“Mira,” he said. Not a plea. Not a command. Just her name, spoken like a prayer he’d forgotten he believed in.
Somewhere below, the first chant began. The Order was moving without him.
The Half-Light Terrace – A suspended garden caught between the war temple below and the civilian safe-zone above. Rain falls sideways in this liminal space.
