Page 60 of Autumn L.A.W

Sigils curved across the page. Not harsh, nor binding. Like calligraphy that knew the right thing to do.

Sahara leaned forward, studying every line. “You softened the corners,” she said.

“Yes,” he replied. “Grief doesn’t respond well to geometric lines.”

She hummed in agreement. “And this one?”

“A resonance baffler,” he said. “Not suppression. More like a curtain. It lets the sound exist without echoing inside your head.”

Her gaze flicked to him. “Not anchored to me, then.”

“Not anymore,” he said at once.

Something warm loosened in her chest. She looked back at the page. “These might work.”

“Might,” he agreed quietly. “If placed carefully. Close enough to the obelisk to register the vibration. Far enough not to startle it.”

“And we do this discreetly,” Sahara finished. “Because I don’t feel like explaining magical sound management to an entire container ship crew.”

“Also, because they might ask us to leave,” Ezra added solemnly.

She snorted. “Rude of them, since we’re in the middle of the Atlantic.”

They shared a smile. And just like that, they were a team again.

They waited until afternoon, when the crew had settled into the slow rhythm of maintenance and routine. The storm clouds had trailed off into nothing but memory. Wind combed its fingers through Sahara’s hair as they stepped back onto the deck.

Ezra slipped his wand from his sleeve like a habit he’d never fully broken. “Ready?” he asked.

Sahara closed her eyes and reached for the subtle hum of the obelisk, tuning out all the ship’s noises, feeling for its container the way one might feel for a lighthouse through fog.

“There,” she murmured, pointing toward a particular stack of containers. “Third row in. Second tier up. It’s resting like a dragon on a hoard of gold.”

Ezra’s lips twitched. “How dignified.” He raised the wand. Magic gathered along its length, subtly. Respectfully awaiting his intentions.

He traced the sigil into the air, each line hanging briefly in pale gold before turning invisible. It didn’t feel like a weapon. It felt like a lullaby.

Sahara cupped her hands well beneath the floating sigil and whispered, “Come here.”

A small construct formed in her palms from soft light and intention. It was oblong, feathery, and purposeful. And it had that same sense of knowing where home was. Just to be sure, she etched a sigil to match the same one she had etched onto the outside of the shipping container.

“A homing pigeon,” Ezra whispered, awed despite himself.

“More of a homing concept,” she replied. “It doesn’t need an actual element. Just direction.”

She lifted her hands. The little knot of light took the sigil gently into itself and drifted across the deck. No one else noticed. It slid between stacked metal giants, up one tier, then vanished into the narrow space near the containment ward.

Sahara felt it when it settled. Not a thud. More of a soft, grateful ohhh. Like pressure easing in her chest.

The obelisk still hummed, but now it was like hearing sound through a wall instead of inside her bones.

Ezra let out a breath in a whoosh. “Well. I’m impressed.”

Sahara nodded. “We make a good team.”

They stood there a while, enjoying the quiet they’d earned.

Then Ezra said, “We should also probably tell Rayna soon.”