I kept watching her shoulders. The tilt of her head. The way she seemed to absorb the world around her not with her eyes, but with her very existence. She wasn't defending herself. She wasn't guarding. She wasn't reacting.
Because she didn't need to.
She wasn't there to stop anything.
She was there to warn.
And any misstep near someone — or something — with that kind of function meant the punishment would come from elsewhere. Higher. Deeper. Older.
Maybe she didn't even know. Maybe she was a piece of a play that doesn't understand the play. A puppet that screams when the wind blows.
And yet, the scream would be real.
That was the thought that made me speak.
"Maybe she is. But not in the traditional sense. It could be magic. Could be mind control. Could be she doesn't even know what she is. But whatever's in there... is a living bell. A ritual alarm."
And if it was an alarm, then someone — or something — was listening.
