Hylisi smiled faintly, the expression brief and restrained, as if she had long ago learned not to linger on gestures that invited misunderstanding.
"You are younger than my son," she said, her voice calm and measured, "yet more mature than him in ways that matter. I have neither the right nor the intention to reject your gift."
She inclined her head once–acknowledgment, not submission.
The mainland slipped into evening slowly, as if the land itself hesitated to move forward after what had unfolded during the day.
The market did not quiet from exhaustion.
It fell silent from fear.
Stalls were dismantled with unusual speed. Baskets were emptied and stacked away without bargaining or chatter. Voices dropped before dusk even arrived, merchants speaking only when necessary, eyes flicking often toward shadows and corners as though words themselves had become dangerous.
Hylisi closed her stall with her own hands.
She did not rush.
She did not call for help.
