The silence that follows the old man's words is not empty.
It listens.
Pressure gathers in the room — subtle at first, like a storm deciding whether to break. Lila shifts on the sofa. Her fingers loosen, then tighten again.
"I feel... strange," she whispers.
Kai leans forward instantly. "Strange how?"
She presses her hand to her sternum.
"Like something is pulling."
The air turns cold.
Not the absence of warmth.
The presence of something that does not belong to it. Every instinct in me sharpens. The floor boards beneath my boots vibrate with a frequency too low for human hearing.
But I feel it.
It is closer than it was outside.
The old man rises slowly.
"It has never pressed this close indoors," he murmurs.
Her father's hand returns to the gun at his side.
Kai stands.
