The corridor curved again.
Sari followed the warmth—not a heat she could measure, but a presence. The walls grew darker, rougher, marked with scratches. The silence pressed harder.
She passed doorways that led to nothing.
And then she saw her.
The old woman from the village.
She sat on a low stone bench against the wall, her hands folded. Her gaze was fixed on something Sari couldn't see.
Sari stopped.
The woman didn't look up.
She walked closer.
“Bu,” she said.
No sound.
She tried again, forming the words with her lips.
*I know you.*
The woman's eyes moved to Sari's hands.
*You warned me. At the fence.*
The woman's lips parted.
No sound. But her hands rose, trembling, and began to move.
*Writing.*
*You should not be here.*
“I had to come.”
*They will find you.*
“Who?”
