The fire in the north continued to grow.

  By the time the bells finally stopped ringing, the glow above the skyline had turned a deep red. Smoke drifted across the city, carried slowly by the wind until the smell of burning wood and metal reached even the southern districts.

  Viktor stepped away from the window.

  “I’m going out again,” he said.

  Elena looked up sharply.

  “You just went out.”

  “I won’t be long.”

  “You said that before.”

  “This is different.”

  She stood, frustration creeping into her voice.

  “Different how?”

  “If the rail yard is burning, people will start buying whatever they can find.”

  Elena frowned.

  “Buying what?”

  “Food.”

  The word settled heavily in the room.

  For the first time that night, Elena looked toward the kitchen shelves.

  They weren’t empty.

  But they weren’t full either.

  “How much do we have?” Viktor asked.

  Elena hesitated.

  “Maybe a week,” she said quietly.

  Misha shifted in his sleep on the couch.

  Anya glanced between her parents.

  “A week?” she repeated.

  Elena lowered her voice.

  “We can stretch it.”

  Viktor grabbed his coat again.

  “I’ll go check the market.”

  “At this hour?” Elena asked.

  “If people are already leaving the northern districts, the markets won’t stay open long.”

  She didn’t like it, but she knew he was right.

  “Be careful,” she said.

  Viktor nodded once and stepped out into the hallway.

  The stairwell was even louder than before. Voices echoed through the building as neighbors spoke anxiously in small groups.

  Some people were carrying bags.

  Others were arguing.

  By the time Viktor stepped outside, the street looked completely different.

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Lanterns lit the road in scattered patches of yellow light. Carts filled with belongings rolled past slowly while people walked beside them carrying bundles and crates.

  The city felt restless.

  Like a place that had lost its balance.

  Viktor began walking toward the market square.

  It wasn’t far—only a few streets away—but the journey felt longer tonight.

  More people filled the roads than he had ever seen at this hour.

  A group of factory workers hurried past him, their clothes covered in soot.

  “They hit the freight depot,” one of them said loudly.

  “I saw it myself,” another replied. “Half the yard is gone.”

  “Then how are they supposed to bring supplies?”

  No one answered.

  Viktor continued walking.

  When he reached the market square, he immediately saw something was wrong.

  The stalls were still open.

  But they were crowded.

  People packed tightly around the tables where merchants normally sold vegetables, bread, and meat. Lanterns hung from the wooden frames of the stalls, casting long shadows over the restless crowd.

  Arguments broke out everywhere.

  “I was here first!”

  “You’re charging double!”

  “That’s all I have left!”

  Viktor pushed his way closer to one of the bread stalls.

  The baker behind the table looked exhausted.

  “How much?” Viktor asked, pointing to a loaf.

  The man hesitated before answering.

  “Four crowns.”

  Viktor stared at him.

  “That was fifty yesterday.”

  The baker shrugged helplessly.

  “It’s two tonight.”

  Viktor paid anyway.

  Around him, the crowd continued to argue.

  Some people left empty-handed.

  Others bought whatever they could carry.

  One man loaded three large sacks of flour into a cart while his wife stood beside him guarding the supplies as if someone might take them.

  Viktor watched the scene carefully.

  This wasn’t panic yet.

  But it was close.

  The war had been six months away from Veligrad.

  Now it was here.

  And people were starting to realize it might stay.

  He bought two more loaves before turning back toward home.

  By the time he reached Karmin Street again, the fires in the north had grown even brighter.

  From here he could see the glow reflecting off the smoke clouds drifting above the city.

  Veligrad looked like it was burning from the inside.

  When Viktor returned to the apartment, Elena opened the door quickly.

  “Well?”

  He held up the bread.

  “It’s already starting.”

  Elena took the loaves from his hands.

  “How much?”

  “Four crowns.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “For bread?”

  “Yes.”

  Anya watched quietly as her mother placed the loaves on the table.

  The room felt smaller now.

  More uncertain.

  Outside, another distant explosion echoed across the city.

  Misha stirred on the couch.

  “Is it morning yet?” he mumbled.

  Elena gently brushed his hair.

  “Not yet.”

  Viktor returned to the window one last time.

  The fires in the north continued to burn, painting the night sky with a dull red glow.

  Somewhere out there the rail yard was still burning.

  And if the trains stopped coming to Veligrad…

  Then sooner or later everything else would stop too.

  Food.

  Coal.

  Medicine.

  Viktor stared out at the restless city below.

  The war had finally reached them.

  And the first night was only beginning.