A fruit stand had apples still gleaming under the gray sky. Nyra picked one up, turned it in her hand. "Fresh." "They didn't leave," Jude said. "They were taken." The air shimmered faintly, like heat rising off stone. It wasn't magic in the traditional sense, it was memory. Strong, layered, recent. The Tear pulsed harder, reacting to the weight of what lingered.
They moved deeper into the city. Churches stood empty. Schools locked mid-lesson. In one house, a meal still steamed on the table, untouched. "This isn't natural," one of the scouts whispered. Jude didn't respond. His attention was drawn to the center of the city, the old courthouse, once used for trials and citywide announcements. A strange light glowed from within. Without waiting for consensus, Jude moved toward it. Nyra followed, blade drawn.