This chapter moves in two directions at once.
One thread pulls upward, into something greater, something that does not ask for permission before it calls.
The other holds firm in the world below, where every choice carries weight and every presence leaves a mark.
Some connections do not weaken with distance.
They sharpen.
And sometimes… something else notices them too.
Max walked.
The Upper Room stretched around her in a quiet that pressed against her senses, its pale glow shifting along the walls as though it followed her mood, bending slightly with every step she took.
The air carried a softness that should have calmed her, yet it only sharpened the edge already cutting through her chest.
Five years lived without her had weight.
It rooted itself inside her and would not shift.
Her fingers curled as she moved, each step steady yet carrying a tightness that sharpened with every breath.
The place answered to her presence.
Light bent in soft ripples across the walls, the surface listening in silence, waiting on what she would become next.
Max made it three more steps before the weight inside her struck too hard.
She folded into a crouch and drew her knees tight against her chest, arms wrapping around them as though she could keep herself from breaking.
Her head lowered onto them and stayed there, small in the vastness of the chamber, carrying the quiet shape of a child crushed by pain too heavy to name.
A breath shuddered out of her.
She shut her eyes and squeezed her legs tightly against herself as the pain tore through her.
A strained sound slipped from her throat, raw with hurt and frustration, carrying everything she could no longer keep contained.
A tear escaped.
It slid down her face and fell to the floor in a line of gold.
The chamber trembled with it.
When she looked up again, pain still lived in her eyes.
So did resolve.
She rose.
A voice reached her from behind.
“Still sharp.”
Max stopped where she stood, her shoulders tightening before she turned, her gaze already set with warning before it found him.
Christopher stood a few steps away, hands resting in his pockets, his posture easy as though he belonged to the silence surrounding them.
The faint curve of amusement on his face carried a familiarity that grated against her already frayed patience.
A breath slipped from her, dry and edged.
“Oh great,” she said, her tone carrying weight without rising.
“I remember you. Convenient, considering whatever I just went through while being asleep for nearly five years.”
Christopher let out a chuckle, the sound settling into the space between them.
“I forgot how your sarcasm lands a punch.”
Max stepped toward him, her movement direct, stopping just short of where he stood.
Her gaze held his, steady and unyielding, the frustration in her chest rising with each passing second.
“Is that what everyone expected?” she said, her voice tightening as it moved, “that I would wake up and accept that I cannot return to my twins, my husband, my life, and carry the fact that they lived through five years without me as if it holds no weight at all.”
Her hands closed at her sides, the tension in her arms visible now.
“That sits well with everyone here,” she added, her voice lowering, “because it does not sit well with me.”
Christopher’s expression softened as he stepped closer, his hand lifting toward her in a quiet attempt to reach her.
Max’s reaction came fast.
Her hand cut through his.
The motion passed clean through him, her palm meeting nothing as the force of it carried her arm slightly forward.
The absence of resistance lingered for a moment, her gaze dropping to where her hand had moved through his form.
A sharp breath left her.
She let out a short, humorless sound.
“Of course.”
Her shoulders turned as she stepped away, the movement carrying the same frustration that burned beneath her skin.
“Do not follow me,” she said over her shoulder, her tone steady with warning.
“I bite.”
She kept walking.
The silence returned around her, though it no longer felt distant.
It pressed closer now, aware, attentive, holding the weight she carried without easing it.
Her steps continued without direction, yet something beneath the surface shifted.
A pull.
Faint at first.
Then clearer.
North-east.
Her pace slowed, her attention shifting inward as the sensation settled deeper within her.
The pull did not speak in words.
It drew.
It guided.
Max exhaled slowly, her jaw tightening.
“I can follow that,” she murmured, already turning, “or stand here and argue with a pull that clearly does not care what I think.”
Her feet carried her forward.
The Upper Room adjusted as she moved, the light along its structure softening into a cooler tone, a faint silver threading through the glow as though the space itself leaned toward what called her.
The pull strengthened.
Each step deepened it.
Each breath brought her closer.
Until the space opened before her.
Max stopped.
The sight before her held her still without effort.
A sphere hovered in the open expanse, vast in size, its surface alive with a soft, luminous glow that shifted in slow waves across its form.
It resembled the moon in shape, yet its presence filled the space with something far deeper, something that carried weight beyond its appearance.
Silver light moved across its surface.
The aura reached toward her.
Max stepped forward, her gaze fixed, her breath steadying without her choosing it.
The Living Scripture responded.
It surged beneath her skin, rising in sharp, deliberate movement, its presence threading through her with urgency as it pressed toward the sphere.
The energy climbed along her arms, tightening across her chest, reaching outward with a force that demanded release.
Max felt it.
The push.
The desire.
Her expression tightened as she pressed her hand lightly against her chest.
“Do not start with me as well,” she said under her breath.
“Stay where you are.”
The Living Scripture resisted.
Then settled.
The hesitation lingered within her, a quiet pull that remained even as it obeyed her command.
Max stepped closer.
The silver light intensified, brushing against her skin, threading through the air she drew into her lungs.
The space around the sphere carried a presence that felt aware, its pull growing stronger as she approached.
She lifted her hand.
Slowly.
The moment her fingers neared the surface, force met her.
It pushed her back a step, controlled yet firm, enough to halt her movement without causing harm.
Max steadied herself as her stance shifted, her balance settling with quiet control while her gaze held firm on the sphere before her.
A subtle pressure gathered along her lower lip where her teeth pressed together, the tension there carrying the edge of her patience as it thinned.
She moved forward again, each step measured, each breath drawn with intent as her hand rose once more toward the surface that called to something deep within her.
The force met her again, this time with greater insistence, pressing into her with purpose as though it understood her approach and answered it directly.
The impact did not drive her back far, yet it carried enough weight to make its refusal clear, to settle into her muscles and remain there for a moment longer than before.
Her shoulders drew tighter, the frustration within her rising and spreading through her chest as the response repeated itself, each attempt answered with the same firm resistance.
The space around her seemed to hold the moment, the silver light shifting subtly as if it watched her struggle to reach what stood just beyond her grasp.
A presence moved in behind her, quiet yet unmistakable, settling into the space with a calm that contrasted the tension building within her.
“You are not ready to receive what lies within it.”
Christopher’s voice carried calmly through the space.
Max’s hands closed into fists.
“Of course,” she muttered, her voice low and edged.
“Another answer that says everything and nothing at the same time.”
She turned toward him, her gaze sharp, her patience worn thin.
“Well,” she said, the word carrying a breath of irritation, “ready for what?”
Christopher stepped past her, his attention shifting to the sphere as he came to a stop before it.
The silver light reflected in his eyes as he looked upward, his posture still, settled in a way that held the moment steady.
“Your ascension.”
The house moved with purpose.
Footsteps carried through the halls in quiet succession, doors opening and closing with controlled urgency, every motion guided by the understanding that time held weight.
Seth stood beneath the stream of water, his head lowered as it ran over him, the steady flow washing across his shoulders and down his back.
The sound filled the space around him, yet it did little to quiet the awareness settling within him.
Something had shifted.
He felt it.
The pull lingered at the edge of his awareness, distant yet undeniable, threading through his senses in a way that refused to be ignored.
He reached for it with something deeper than thought, letting the pull meet him where his spirit already listened.
It remained, present and unyielding, as though it had all the time in the world.
He stepped out, the water trailing from him as he moved, his actions steady and practiced as he dressed.
His bag rested where it always did, packed and ready, a quiet constant in a life that rarely allowed stillness.
By the time he reached for his jacket, he felt them.
Their presence filled the doorway before he turned.
Ethan and Elara stood there, watching him, their silence carrying more weight than any words they could have spoken.
Seth exhaled softly as he stepped toward them.
“We will try to make this quick,” he said, his voice steady as it settled between them.
“You know I do not stay away longer than I need to.”
They nodded.
Their understanding came easily.
He reached out, cupping each of their cheeks, his hands warm against their skin, drawing comfort from the contact as much as them.
“You know how to reach me,” he said quietly, his gaze holding theirs.
“If it becomes necessary.”
A pause settled.
“Only when it truly is.”
They nodded again.
Ethan lifted his phone, typing quickly before holding it up.
Seth read the message, a faint smile touching his lips as he straightened.
“I will come back whole,” he said, his tone carrying quiet certainty.
“I am divine, remember.”
Elara’s fingers pressed sharply into his side.
The reaction came instantly.
He flinched, a short breath leaving him as he looked at her.
“I hear you,” he said, a small shake of his head following.
“I will be careful.”
He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to each of their foreheads before stepping back.
Then he turned and moved toward the door.
Outside, the team waited.
Engines ran low, the vehicles ready, the air carrying the quiet tension of movement held just before release.
Seth stepped forward, then paused, turning his head slightly.
“Jamey.”
Jamey stood near the edge of the driveway, leaning against a tree, his posture carrying clear displeasure, his expression fixed in a tight, unimpressed stare.
“Make sure they eat.”
Jamey’s gaze sharpened as he pushed himself upright.
“They babysit me,” he shot back, folding his arms.
“Do you have any idea what it’s like being judged by two small humans who do not even blink when you make bad decisions?”
Before Max could question Christopher, something shifted.
The pull struck her spirit with sudden urgency, sharper than before, deeper, threading through her in a way that demanded movement rather than thought.
It did not wait for her to understand it.
It called to her.
Her head turned slightly, though her eyes never returned to him.
“I need to leave,” she murmured, already moving.
Her stride sharpened into a run, each step carrying a rising surge that fed her momentum as the Upper Room stretched beneath her, space bending easily to match her pace.
The light shifted with her movement, silver deepening along the path ahead, drawing her forward with a deliberate, almost expectant pull.
The sensation returned, stronger this time.
A tremor formed just below her navel, exact in its placement, steady in its rhythm as it pulsed once and then again, each beat expanding outward in a controlled wave that stirred something deeper within her.
The sensation sharpened her focus, a living current threading through her and lifting every sense into clarity.
Her pace held steady, her body leaning into the motion as the energy built within her.
Something or someone is moving.
The thought settled cleanly, carried with certainty as it aligned with the pull guiding her forward.
Time moved differently here.
She had understood that the moment she arrived.
Moments stretched and folded with ease, each experience lived in full while passing with the lightness of a single breath.
The sensation built as she ran, the space opening before her, widening with each step until the surface beneath her shifted.
The transition came swiftly, smoothly, and expectedly, as though she had stepped into a rhythm she knew well.
The ground gave way beneath her, and she welcomed it.
Air rushed past her as she dropped through open space, the sensation alive and electric, brushing against her skin as it carried her downward.
The fall wrapped around her, familiar, exhilarating, a movement she understood and accepted without resistance.
Clouds rose to meet her.
They gathered beneath her feet, dense and responsive, shaping themselves into something she could stand on as her descent slowed and settled.
The vast sky opened around her, stretching outward in endless layers of light and distance.
Max moved forward with ease, drawn toward the edge.
Her gaze lowered.
Far below, the world unfolded.
Seth stood there.
Alec is beside him.
The others close by.
They stepped from their vehicles, their movements steady within the physical space below, their presence clear despite the distance that separated them.
Her attention shifted across the land, her eyes scanning with purpose as she searched for something that held meaning within what she saw.
A sign came into view.
Weathered by time, standing firm at the edge of the town.
Placed at the edge of the town.
Welcome to Rothmans.
The name settled within her.
Rothmans.
She felt it before she understood it.
The place carried something.
Something sacred.
The town spread out beneath her, its structure orderly, its people moving with quiet purpose, their lives woven together with a sense of tradition that felt deeply rooted.
Warmth lived within its boundaries.
Stability.
A quiet goodness that held firm against the passage of time.
Yet something pressed against it.
The land beyond the town stretched outward, dry and harsh, its soil lacking the same life that thrived within Rothman’s borders.
The contrast did not shout.
It lingered, subtle and unsettling, like a truth waiting to be uncovered.
Max stepped forward.
The space shifted.
She moved through it without resistance, her position changing in an instant as the scene beneath her dissolved and reformed.
A different town lay below her now.
The difference struck her at once.
The land carried weight here.
The air itself felt heavier, pressing down on the people moving through it.
Their steps lacked ease.
Their movements carried strain.
Suffering lived here.
She felt it.
Max inhaled slowly, her chest tightening as the realization settled deeper.
She stepped again.
The space responded.
Another town.
Another view.
The same outcome.
The pattern revealed itself with quiet certainty.
Something tied these places together.
Something tied them to Rothmans.
Is this why Seth is here?
The thought settled as she closed her eyes.
She listened.
The world below reached her in fragments, voices rising through the distance, carried upward by something beyond sound.
Seth’s voice came first.
“Did you notice the surrounding towns?”
Max’s eyes opened.
Her focus sharpened.
Alec stepped beside him, his presence steady.
“Yes,” he said.
“Anyone standing here would see it.”
Samantha moved forward, her attention drawn downward, her senses reaching beyond what the others could perceive.
“I can feel the ground beneath us,” she said, her voice quieter now, deeper with awareness.
“It moves. It breathes. There is life in it.”
The group shifted, their attention turning toward her.
Marcus stepped forward slightly, his gaze thoughtful as he looked across the land.
“She is right,” he said, his voice measured.
“From what I understand of lands like this, the soil carries a bond to its place. This land holds something rare.” His gaze shifted toward Seth.
“If it is removed, it loses what sustains it. It belongs here.”
The air settled.
The weight of their words lingered.
Footsteps approached.
An elderly man walked toward them, his posture straight, and his presence carrying quiet authority.
Two younger women followed at his side, their movements composed, their expressions calm.
Their smiles held warmth.
Genuine.
“Good day,” the man said, his voice welcoming as he stopped before them.
“I am First Elder Bradley.”
He gestured toward the woman to his left.
“This is Second Elder Catherine.”
Then to the woman on his right.
“And this is my daughter, Third Elder Gabriella.”
The two women inclined their heads slightly toward Seth, their gaze holding a depth of understanding that spoke without words.
Seth stepped forward, offering introductions in return, his tone respectful as he named each member of his team.
First Elder Bradley brought his hands together lightly, satisfaction settling into his expression.
“With introductions complete,” he said, “we should make our way to the Grand Hall. Many are eager to meet you.”
He turned, already moving, the others following without hesitation.
All except Seth and Alec.
They remained where they stood, watching the group move ahead.
Seth leaned slightly toward Alec, his voice lowered.
“Were they expecting us?”
Alec glanced toward the retreating figures, then back at Seth, a faint shrug following.
“Nothing I was told suggests that.”
Seth’s gaze lingered on them a moment longer before he spoke again.
“Then how do they know who we are?”
Alec stepped forward, falling into stride as he moved to follow.
“I think it is your hair.”
Above them, Max let out a quiet laugh.
The sound carried lightness for the first time since she arrived, slipping free before she could stop it.
Below, Seth slowed and came to a halt, the motion easing out of him as something shifted within.
His head lifted, his attention rising with quiet certainty as his gaze traveled upward, cutting clean through distance with a focus that held steady without hesitation.
It fixed on the exact point where she hovered, suspended within the vast stretch of sky, as though distance held no authority over his sight.
Max felt it at once, the connection striking through her with a sharp, undeniable pull that tightened within her and held.
It drew her inward first, then downward, pulling her toward him, toward the world beneath, toward everything that still carried her name.
The pull deepened.
It pressed.
It called.
Her breath slowed as the urge settled into her, steady and insistent, asking for movement, asking for surrender.
She remained where she was.
Her gaze stayed on him, her focus unwavering as the pull continued to draw at her, threading through her with a force that understood exactly what it was reaching for.
“I know,” she murmured, her voice soft, meant only for herself.
“I feel you too.”
The distance remained between them as the pull continued to thread through her, steady and unrelenting.
Below, she saw it clearly, a single line of gold and silver binding their fates together, drawn tight between them with a quiet, unbreakable strength.
Heaven watched.
She chose her place and stayed there.
Something stirred at the edge of Max’s awareness, a sharp pulse pressing against the back of her mind as it pulled her attention in the opposite direction.
The sensation held steady, threading through her thoughts until it demanded focus.
She turned toward it.
The sky shifted with her movement, clouds parting as she crossed the distance in a breath.
The space opened beneath her, revealing a mountain range stretching outward in layered ridges, its peaks cutting clean through the air.
Her gaze dropped, narrowing as the pull guided her toward its source.
It revealed itself quickly.
A clearing rested along the slope, partially hidden by dense trees that curved inward, sheltering what lay within.
Vehicles lined the outer edge, more than a handful, their placement purposeful.
Tents stood deeper in the cover, gear scattered in clusters that spoke of readiness rather than rest.
Max watched.
Movement filled the camp, yet it was not the activity that held her.
Something within the group pressed against her senses.
A warning.
It moved through her like a steady current, drawing her focus inward as she circled above them, her steps light across the clouds, her gaze shifting from one figure to the next.
Then she found her.
The woman stepped out of one of the vehicles, her presence cutting through the space with quiet authority.
Black clothing framed her form, sharp and controlled, her raven hair falling around a face that held command in every line.
Her voice carried across the clearing, firm enough to move people without question.
The camp responded at once.
Tents came down with speed, gear packed quickly, hands moving with urgency that needed no explanation.
Max’s attention stayed fixed.
A figure emerged.
The girl stepped from the same vehicle, smaller in form, yet something within her struck harder than anything else in the clearing.
She moved to the woman’s side and stood there, still, her gaze lifting as though she listened to something no one else could hear.
The woman bent toward her.
Listened.
Then straightened.
Her eyes rose.
Toward the sky.
Toward her.
Max’s mouth curved slightly, a quiet edge slipping through.
“Well, that explains the itch,” she murmured.
“You felt me.”
The girl turned.
Slowly.
Her gaze moved across the sky in a full circle, precise in its sweep as she traced the air itself.
Max felt it at once and drew inward, pulling her presence tighter, letting it sink into the vastness around her.
The girl’s focus lingered.
Then shifted.
The connection slipped.
Max held her position, watching as the moment passed and the camp returned to motion.
Engines turned over, vehicles shifting into place as they pulled away from the clearing, their path carving through the mountain roads with intent.
She followed their direction.
Rothmans.
Her eyes narrowed.
“You have got to be kidding me,” she muttered under her breath.
“Of all the places to head, you choose that one.”
A sharp, unwilling interest moved through her, chased immediately by frustration.
Of course it would be there.
Of course whatever was building had chosen the one place already tangled with too many threads.
Pressure gathered through her chest as she watched them disappear into the distance.
The awareness within her stayed razor-sharp, every instinct telling her what moved and where it would land.
She could see it unfold.
She could feel what approached.
Her voice stayed locked behind the distance.
The First Elder led them through a wide corridor that opened into a sun room shaped by living green.
Trees arched inward as if they had chosen their positions, their branches weaving a quiet canopy that softened the light into a cool, dappled glow.
The air carried the scent of leaves and damp earth, and the shade settled gently across the space, easing the heat that lingered outside.
Seth walked beside the First Elder, listening as he spoke of Rothmans, of its beginnings and the care taken to preserve what lay beneath the soil.
The words flowed easily, yet Seth’s attention shifted as something familiar brushed against his senses.
Two presences.
Close.
Known.
His steps slowed a fraction, his gaze lifting as the feeling strengthened, drawing his focus across the room.
Master Dan sat near one of the far windows, positioned where the filtered light touched the edge of his shoulders.
The people around him treated him with quiet respect, their movements careful, their attention attentive.
He rose the moment Seth entered, his expression shifting with interest as he took in the sight before him.
“Hey, young man,” he called, his voice carrying warmth as he stepped forward.
His gaze moved over Seth’s hair, lingering for a beat before a chuckle followed.
“I hope Max will forgive that choice.”
Seth reached him and rested a hand briefly against his arm, the contact familiar, drawing a small measure of calm from it.
He took a moment before answering, a faint smile settling at the corner of his mouth.
“She will take me as I am,” he said.
“I did try to change it. The color never held.”
Master Dan narrowed his eyes slightly, studying him with quiet interest before nodding once.
“White suits you,” he said, his tone thoughtful.
“It carries a certain favour.”
His attention shifted across the room, scanning with purpose.
“And I have something you will appreciate.”
A second presence moved.
It approached from the far end of the room, smooth and controlled, each step carrying a quiet confidence that spoke of experience earned over time.
The man who emerged carried age differently, his frame lean, his movements precise, his presence steady in a way that settled into the space around him.
Seth’s expression softened as he stepped forward.
“Jason.”
The name came with ease as he closed the distance and pulled him into an embrace.
Jason returned it with a firm grip before stepping back, his hand lifting to ruffle Seth’s hair with a familiarity that carried years within it.
“You look like time skipped you entirely,” Jason said, his eyes moving over him with quiet appraisal.
Seth let out a breath that carried a trace of amusement.
“You look like it caught up with you just enough.”
Jason gave a low huff, the corner of his mouth lifting as he shook his head.
“Twelve years is not much,” he replied, his tone carrying a calm certainty.
His gaze sharpened slightly as it settled on Seth again.
“Tell me, how are you carrying this?”
He gestured toward a table set deeper within the room, guiding Seth toward it as attendants moved in with practiced grace, placing tea and small plates before them without interrupting the flow of conversation.
Seth sat, his hand resting briefly against the edge of the table before he looked up, the weight within him surfacing in the steadiness of his voice.
“I feel where she should be,” he said quietly.
“Every moment leaves a space that does not close.”
His gaze held, the calm in it carrying something deeper beneath.
“I am giving her time,” he continued, his tone measured as it settled between them.
“I trust her path, and I know she walks it with purpose.”
A faint edge touched his expression, something sharper, something held in check.
“But I am reaching the point where patience becomes action,” he added, his voice lowering slightly.
“If that line is crossed, I will go to her myself and bring her back.”
Jason studied him in silence for a moment, the weight of his words settling fully before he gave a slow nod.
“Then let us hope she does not keep you waiting too long,” he said, his tone steady as he leaned back slightly, his attention never leaving Seth.
A change touched the room before a word was spoken.
Seth felt it in the altered rhythm of footsteps, in the sudden pauses, in the way nearby voices thinned and turned.
One of Jason’s men was already moving with urgency, cutting through the space until he reached their table.
He leaned in between Seth and Jason, voice low and heavy with purpose.
“We’ve got movement,” he said, leaning in.
“Greyton. They’re on the move.”
Jason’s gaze stayed on Seth, steady and measuring, his voice slipping out without raising.
“How long do we have?”
The man drew a breath, holding it for a moment before answering.
“Sixteen hours if they push without rest. Eighteen to twenty if they take their time.”
Seth lifted his hand.
The motion flowed through the room at once.
Chairs shifted.
Footsteps closed in.
The team gathered around the table, their presence forming a quiet circle, attention narrowing as each one tuned into the shift that had entered the space.
Jason straightened slightly, his voice carrying enough to reach them all.
“Greyton does not move like this without purpose,” he said.
“Whatever they bring, it comes with weight.”
Seth leaned back in his chair, one hand resting along the edge of the table as his gaze moved across each of them.
He held their eyes long enough to anchor what he was about to say, the calm in him settling over the tension that had begun to rise.
“We let them handle it,” he said, his gaze moving across them.
“If it turns into something else, then we step in.”
His gaze sharpened as it passed from one to the next.
“If it crosses that line, you move when I tell you.”
Each of them answered with a nod, their understanding clear without a word needing to follow.
Alec shifted closer, his attention flicking toward the direction the elders had gone.
“Who’s telling the elders?”
“I will.”
Master Dan stepped forward from behind, his presence easing into the space as though he had always been part of it.
His hand rested briefly on Alec’s shoulder before his gaze moved toward the corridor.
“I’ll handle Bradley. He knows me well enough.”
The moment stretched.
Then it fractured.
Sound carried in from beyond the room, voices raised in urgency, footsteps striking against the floor in quick succession.
The door pushed open with force as a young man rushed in, breath uneven, urgency clear in every movement.
“Elder Bradley,” he called, his voice tightening as he fought to steady it.
“We need you.”
Elder Bradley rose quickly, the years in his frame showing in the effort yet pushed aside by the weight of the call.
“Slow down,” he said, lifting a hand.
“Take a breath and tell us what happened.”
The young man pointed behind him, his chest rising and falling as he forced the words through.
“They just walked in,” he said, breath uneven.
“Lucy stepped up to them, and one of them hit her. Dropped her.”
The room shifted.
Seth’s gaze moved to Jason.
Jason caught it, and then his eyes landed on his man, the question already there.
“You missed them,” Jason said quietly.
“How did that happen?”
The man lowered his head, the weight of it pulling his shoulders inward as his eyes flicked briefly toward Seth, searching for something he could not yet find.
Seth rose from his seat.
The movement carried through the space, drawing every eye without effort.
His presence settled over the room, steady, controlled, leaving no room for doubt.
“They masked themselves,” Seth said, his voice settling into the room.
“That was done on purpose.”
He felt it then, the weight clinging to them, thick and invasive as it bled outward, spreading through the air like tainted ink that reached for the roots of the land itself.
The space around them tightened, reacting in ways most would miss, yet it did not escape him.
Seth’s gaze held steady, the understanding settling deeper with each passing second.
This would not pass quietly.
Some things do not reveal themselves.
They learn how to pass through the world without being felt.
Until it is too late.