Klisto

Previously

…Half remained. The Legion tightened its perimeter. The Monkey Without Face refined its whispers. The fractures inside the opposing force widened by fractions, invisible to inspection but structurally significant, the kind of damage that accumulates silently until the day it suddenly, catastrophically, gives way. And in a narrow street where two people had spoken in shadows, a woman in white and blue lay awake in her quarters, staring at the ceiling, replaying a conversation she had been told to forget, feeling something ancient stir in the sediment of her exhausted faith — something that felt terrifyingly, wonderfully, like the beginning of belief. The moth's wings beat on.