The first thing that happened was the windows.
Not all of them — just the ones along the eastern wall, the ones that had been showing rain and the grey of the basalt cliff and the ordinary, continuing morning. They went dark. Not the darkness of clouds or curtains or any meteorological explanation Callum's mind reached for automatically, reflexively, the way it always reached for the ordinary explanation first. They went dark the way a pupil dilates: with sudden, focused intention.
The second thing was the sound.
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