Page 29 of Autumn L.A.W

He looked up, meeting Rayna’s eyes. “The verb phrase shifted. It used to read ‘open conduit / accept pattern.’ Now it says, ‘open conduit / select pattern.’”

Lioness’s skin tightened. “Select. As in ‘Choose your own adventure?’”

“Language is flexible,” Brianna said weakly.

“Language isn’t this flexible,” Ezra muttered. “Not unless the text is interacting with us.”

He lifted his hand. The ink below his fingertips shimmered, lines thinning and thickening like something was breathing under the paper. Ezra jerked his hand back. The glyphs settled.

“Okay,” he said. “I stand corrected. The text is creepy.”

Lioness’s pencil twitched against the paper, a line dragging itself across the blank page without her permission. A long vertical slash, then another, then a jagged horizontal crack. Her hand shook. She tightened her grip until her knuckles ached. Not yet.

She forced herself to sketch something harmless around the intrusive lines: the barricades, Rayna’s boots, the edge of Magda’s satchel. Distract the vision, let it bleed into something ordinary.

“Lioness?” Magda’s voice was soft and warning. “You good?”

Lioness huffed. “If you mean ‘resisting the urge to channel sentient architecture involuntarily,’ then yes, I’m a solid B-plus.”

Rayna stepped closer, voice low. “If it gets bad, you step out of the circle.”

“Then who’s going to draw us a map out of this mess?” Lioness asked.

Rayna’s mouth flattened. “We’ll improvise. I’m not losing two witches to this rock.”

On the other side of the barricade, Cal sat on a park bench with his back to the whole scene, as ordered. He looked aggressively casual, legs stretched out, leather jacket open, phone in one hand. To anyone else, he was just a hot guy on break, people-watching.

To Lioness, his shoulders were too tense, his head tilted just enough to prove he was listening. Every time someone came too close to the tape, he lifted a hand and waved them away with easy charm.

“Human perimeter’s holding,” Victoria said, following Lioness’s gaze. “Your boyfriend is very obedient.”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” Lioness said automatically. The denial was fast enough to earn her three raised eyebrows and one soft snort from Brianna.

“Your crush is very obedient,” Brianna amended.

“Not helping,” Lioness muttered. Her cheeks felt warm. Great. She could face an ancient obelisk, but mention Cal, and suddenly she was a teenager.

The ground under her boots shivered. Not a full tremor, just a single pulse, like a massive heart had given one experimental beat.

Everyone felt it.

Crystal went still, eyes wide. “Okay. That, I did not like.”

Water responded first. A narrow puddle near the barricade rippled without any wind. Little beads of water leapt up and fell again in nervous hops.

Magda’s vials chimed softly, their liquid contents jumping in unison.

Reginald flattened himself against Victoria’s neck, tail fluffing out. He chittered in sharp, high bursts that translated perfectly from raccoon into “Nope. Nope. Absolutely not.”

Wally ducked back into Magda’s satchel, only his ears visible. Even Spirit Lion, luminous and huge at the fissure’s edge, lowered his head and bared spectral teeth at the crack in the earth.

Ezra looked from the paper to the fissure. “It’s aware we’re here.”

“It was aware when Sahara looked at it sideways a couple of days ago,” Rayna said. “We’re just the follow-up act.”

Lioness’s pencil moved again, unbidden. A silhouette emerged beside the crack; tall, faceless, hand outstretched. For a split second, it looked like Cal from behind. Her stomach lurched.

She slammed the sketchbook shut.