The same way Sable studies the contract.
The same way Corin tests his strength.
The pattern is consistent.
And I do not like the symmetry.
I step forward, positioning myself directly at the entrance of the house. The doorframe aligns with my shoulders, the threshold beneath my feet marked with reinforced sigils that glow faintly under the strain of extended protection.
Corin watches the movement. “You’re not going inside.”
“No.”
“You’re staying here.”
“Yes.”
“Guard duty.”
“Yes.”
He nods slowly. “Permanent?”
I do not answer immediately.
The tether hums faintly as Sable moves overhead, her pulse steady but alert. The house behind me contains the anchor that stabilizes my existence in this plane and the anomaly that has drawn attention from entities that do not waste attention lightly.
I do not move away from that.
“Indefinite,” I say.
Corin lets out a low whistle. “You really are stuck with us.”
“I am not stuck.”
“Right,” he says. “You’re choosing to stand in front of my house like a very intense statue.”
“That description lacks precision.”
“It has personality.”
The pressure at the perimeter fades again, this time lingering just beyond reach, as though whatever watches has decided observation is sufficient for now.
The threat has not diminished.
It has simply paused.
Corin plants the tip of his practice blade into the ground and leans on it slightly. “So we wait.”
“Yes.”
“I hate waiting.”
“It is preferable to reacting without preparation.”
“Fair.”
He glances toward the house. “She’s going to come down soon.”
