An Ordinary Morning
I was fifteen then. A boy of the market, accustomed to the hustle and the raucous cries of the merchants. My days were all the same; I knew exactly where to stand to avoid the passing carts and which alleys of Thalea woke first each morning.
It was just another morning in the city. Nothing more. The sun had risen slightly above the rooftops, and the cobblestones were filling with footsteps. The merchants opened their stalls without haste. Someone was shouting about fruit. Someone else swore under his breath because a crate had splintered. Nothing felt different.
Arion stood near the mouth of the road that led out of the city, toward the port of Thaleon. He wasn't doing anything. He just stood there, observing the flow of the crowd with an intensity that didn't match his years. He was a bit older than me, with dark hair and a gaze that never lingered on one spot for too long. He wore his green cloak and had a small sword at his belt, though we all knew he had never once drawn it from its sheath. He didn't look at the stalls. He didn't look at the people. He was watching the road, as if expecting a visitor only he knew of.
A little further away, near the temple steps, Kyrana in her white mantle was assisting with the morning chores. She lit candles, gathered ashes, and spoke in low tones with the priests. I had known her for years. Her name, given by the City’s Goddess, had bound her to the temple since birth. She was always like that: calm, careful, as if she were trying not to break something invisible around her. Yet, anyone who watched her long enough saw the same thing one saw in Arion. An unease. Not fear. Anticipation.
I was sitting further back, leaning against a stone wall, when everything stopped for a moment. Not the market. Not the voices. Just us.
The sky darkened abruptly. Not like a cloud blocking the sun, nor like a passing shadow. It was something shorter, emptier. As if the light had vanished for a single heartbeat. A frozen shiver passed over us, as if Tarthalos had opened its eyes for a moment beneath the earth.
Arion snapped his head up. His hand went to his belt instinctively. Kyrana stopped outside the temple. The candle in her hand went out on its own, leaving a thin trail of smoke rising into the air. I felt my stomach tighten for no reason.
No one else reacted. The shouting continued. The carts rolled normally over the stones.
"Did you see it?" I whispered, approaching Arion.
He didn't look at me. "No," he said, his voice low. "But something passed. Something vast."
The elder priest emerged from the temple then. He stood for a moment at the entrance and looked up, as if waiting for something to return from the void. He didn't speak, but his face had turned the color of ash. Then he retreated inside hurriedly. The moment was lost. The market resumed its rhythm.
To everyone else, nothing had happened. To us, however, the day did not flow as before. We didn't know why. We had no words. It was just an ordinary morning in Thalea. And yet, the world had begun to slide off its hinges.
