The night deepened. The three lights did not move, did not fade, did not blink. They hung in the sky like three eyes, watching the sanctuary with a patience that felt ancient and terrible. The settlers had stopped trying to sleep. They gathered in the square, huddled together, their sealed objects clutched in their hands. The glow was gone now—completely drowned out by the lights from above, but the warmth remained. Faint, but there.Gerr sat with his back against the stone wall of the well, his father's knife in his hand. The cracked blade was cold against his palm, but the handle was warm. The leather strap Corin had made held it together, held it steady.Elara sat beside him, the crooked bag in her lap. Her fingers traced the uneven stitches, the too-long strap, the too-stiff leather. She did not speak. She did not need to. The silence between them was comfortable, familiar, the silence of people who had learned to be present without words.Across the square, Theo sat with Liam. Th