Mara’s POV
Visibility is a hunger.
Once people notice you, they don’t stop. They watch, they measure, they wait for the moment you falter so they can decide what kind of story to tell about you afterward.
By the third day after the gathering, I can feel it everywhere.
Not in crowds.
In pauses.
Calls that hesitate before speaking. Messages that say less than they mean. Allies who don’t ask for direction but linger close enough to claim association if things go well—or distance if they don’t.
I don’t comment on it.
Acknowledging hunger feeds it.
Declan notices anyway.
“You’re being circled,” he says one evening, standing beside me at the window.
“I know.”
“They’re deciding whether to come closer.”
“Or when to strike,” I reply.
“Both,” he agrees.
The city glows below us, decept
