Sasha couldn't sleep.
The third day had come, and not a single one of the fallen figures in the training field had stirred.
The wind whispered through the village like a quiet warning, but no voice eased the tightening in her chest.
She had kept her mouth shut, forced herself to trust Kyle, to trust the process he had insisted on. But enough was enough.
She stormed into the command building, ignoring the startled look from the guard at the door. She didn't knock.
She didn't wait.
She slammed the door open and marched up to Kyle, who sat at his desk going through parchment reports.
His expression remained calm as he looked up, but he didn't get the chance to speak before she grabbed the front of his collar.
"Kyle! It's been three days! Three days, and they haven't moved! They're going to start suffering from hunger, dehydration—gods, even mana poisoning! What are you doing?!"
She snapped, her voice shaking with barely contained emotion.
