Stella
Silence never lasts.
I felt it before it moved.
The presence outside the quiet memory I had folded myself into shifted. Not circling now. Not probing.
Waiting.
It had adjusted. It had learned the rhythm of my restraint. And now it was patient. That was fine.
So was I.
The quiet memory I had chosen — empty stone, dim light, no attachments — began to tremble at the edges. Not because it was attacking it. Because it was looking for something worth touching. It wanted emotion. It wanted reaction. It wanted me to reach.
So I didn't.
I let my breathing steady into something mechanical. I flattened everything sharp inside me. No Abby. No Caspian. No Kael. Nothing it could grip.
The darkness outside thinned. Then it slid through. Not with violence. With precision. The walls of the
