The explosions stopped just before sunset.

  For a while the city remained eerily quiet, as if Veligrad itself was holding its breath. Smoke drifted across the skyline, darkening the sky while distant fires continued to burn somewhere beyond the factories.

  Inside the Markovic apartment, no one touched the soup.

  Misha sat quietly at the table, his eyes fixed on the window. Every now and then another distant boom rolled through the air, but it was far away now.

  Anya stood near the glass, watching the smoke rising above the rooftops.

  “I can see the factory district,” she said softly.

  Viktor walked beside her and looked out. A thick column of black smoke climbed into the sky where the northern factories stood.

  “That’s the steel plant,” he said.

  Elena crossed her arms.

  “If they’re bombing factories, the army will push them back soon.”

  Viktor didn’t respond.

  Down below, the street was filled with people. Some carried bags or suitcases. Others argued loudly in the road while horse carts rattled past in a hurry.

  “Why are they leaving?” Misha asked.

  Elena tried to smile at him.

  “They’re probably going to stay with family.”

  But even she didn’t sound certain.

  Another loud crack echoed somewhere in the distance.

  This time it wasn’t artillery.

  It sounded more like gunfire.

  Viktor stepped away from the window.

  “I’m going downstairs.”

  Elena looked at him immediately.

  “For what?”

  “To see what’s happening.”

  “That’s a terrible idea.”

  “I won’t go far.”

  She hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.

  “Be quick.”

  Viktor grabbed his coat and stepped into the hallway. The stairwell was already filled with voices as neighbors gathered near the entrance of the building.

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  By the time he reached the street, the air smelled faintly of smoke.

  People crowded the road. Some argued while others simply stood there staring toward the northern skyline.

  “What happened?” Viktor asked a man standing beside him.

  “The army says it’s artillery,” the man replied. “Tarskan guns.”

  “From where?”

  The man pointed north.

  “Across the river.”

  Another voice nearby spoke up.

  “They hit the factories.”

  “That’s what they’re aiming for.”

  A woman pushed through the crowd, clutching a suitcase.

  “They’re evacuating the northern districts,” she said breathlessly.

  The word spread through the crowd like a spark through dry grass.

  Evacuating.

  People began talking all at once.

  Some said the army would stop the attack by morning. Others said the front line had already collapsed.

  No one seemed to know the truth.

  Viktor looked toward the skyline again.

  The smoke had grown thicker.

  After a moment he turned and walked back inside the building.

  When he returned to the apartment, Elena immediately stood.

  “Well?”

  He removed his coat slowly.

  “They hit the factories.”

  Elena’s face tightened.

  “Will the army stop them?”

  Viktor hesitated.

  “I don’t know.”

  The room fell silent.

  Outside, the distant fires continued to burn across the city.

  Misha spoke again, his voice small.

  “Are we going to leave too?”

  Viktor looked at his children for a long moment before answering.

  “No,” he said quietly.

  “We’re staying.”

  Anya turned back toward the window.

  The sky above Veligrad had turned dark, but the horizon glowed a deep orange where the factories burned. Every now and then a new flash lit the clouds, followed by the distant rumble of another explosion.

  The city did not sound the same anymore.

  Instead of the usual noise of carts and voices, there were shouts in the streets, hurried footsteps in the stairwell, and the constant murmur of frightened people trying to understand what was happening.

  Elena began clearing the table, though none of the bowls had been finished.

  “We should save the food,” she said quietly.

  “For later.”

  Viktor nodded.

  Anya watched her mother pour the remaining soup back into the pot.

  “For how long?” she asked.

  No one answered.

  Outside, the wind carried the smell of smoke through the open window.

  Somewhere far across the city, church bells suddenly began ringing.

  Not for a service.

  A warning.

  Viktor slowly turned toward the sound.

  “Close the curtains,” he said.

  Anya pulled the curtains shut, blocking the burning skyline from view.

  But the glow of the fires still slipped through the edges of the fabric.

  And long after the city went dark, the bells continued to ring.