No one spoke for a while.
The question Liora had asked—What else is here that I can't see?—didn't fade. It settled into the space between them and stayed there, pressing against everything that followed. The horizon remained unchanged. The distant figure was still, unwavering, a fixed point in a world that had begun to fracture in quieter, more deliberate ways.
Behind her, something else existed.
Something only they could see.
Liora didn't turn again.
Not immediately.
Because turning hadn't helped.
Seeing nothing where something clearly was hadn't resolved anything—it had only confirmed the limit she was trying to understand. So instead, she remained still, her awareness shifting inward, then outward again, not searching wildly, but adjusting. Testing.
"…It hasn't moved," Cairis said.
His voice was low, controlled, but it carried an edge now—alert, precise. He wasn't guessing anymore. He was tracking.
Kael didn't answer at first.
Then, quieter, "…It's closer."
