I stood there, quietly observing the slow but unmistakable establishment of housing for the lamias, my eyes following the changes as if they were unfolding in real time rather than over days and weeks.
What once began as crude shelters—natural caves hollowed out by necessity, reinforced stone walls stacked by hand, and temporary structures born from desperation—were steadily transforming. The rough edges of survival were being replaced by intent. Purpose. There was planning behind it now. You could see it in the way the paths curved instead of cutting through randomly, in how the houses were spaced so closely yet never felt cramped. Before long, they weren't just building places to sleep; they were building homes that resembled modern houses, adapted carefully to fit lamia physiology.
