Aria’s POV
The last one didn’t roll.
It listened.
Three days after the north tunnel went quiet, the Warden’s pulse changed. Not heavier. Thinner. Focused. Like someone pressing their ear to a door on the other side.
Ridah called no sweeps. “If it’s listening, we let it,” she said. “Debt shouted. We don’t.”
So we worked. Quiet work. Mended the quarry wall where dust had fallen. Re-strung the warning bells Tav swore we didn’t need anymore. Lyra taught Mara how to braid without pulling. Coren mapped the ward-nodes and found none had dimmed.
I walked the deep vein alone. Not the north tunnel. The one below the quarry, where the stone was oldest.
The air down there was different. Not attentive. Curious.
Every few steps, I’d stop. Press my palm to the wall. Wait.
The Warden woul
