***
{Outside The Projection}
All the teasing, the laughing, the jabs at Safira's expense—gone.
Snuffed out in an instant.
Because they all saw it.
War was here.
The village in the projection was still standing, still whole, still untouched.
But they all knew it wouldn't stay that way.
No matter how beautiful the crops looked under the Twelve Moons. No matter how peaceful the water wheels turned. No matter how warm the lantern light flickered in the windows.
By tomorrow, it would all be gone.
Burned. Razed. Turned into nothing but smoldering ruin.
And Malik—
The man who had, just moments ago, been the source of their amusement, the target of Safira's constant prodding, was the one who would make it happen.
They had seen it before.
They knew how this worked.
But still, that didn't make it easier.
Duban exhaled, long and slow.
He looked down, covering his face with both hands.
Faqir, on the other hand, didn't bother hiding his expression.
