Every war has a moment when it stops being theoretical.

A moment when tension stops hovering in the air and finally lands somewhere real.

Not loud.

Not explosive.

Just undeniable.

For Amara, it came in the form of a phone call she almost didn’t answer.

She was in her studio, sleeves rolled up, standing in front of a blank canvas she hadn’t touched in an hour.

The silence in the room felt thick, not peaceful anymore.

Heavy with anticipation.

Her phone buzzed against the table behind her.

Unknown number.

She stared at it longer than necessary.

Then answered.

“Ms. Hayes?” a calm male voice asked.

“Yes.”

“This is Daniel Price...