Marcus POV
One of them swore softly under his breath. Another adjusted his stance like he'd been holding it wrong the entire time.
"Should we report?" someone asked.
The question wasn't procedural.
It was existential.
Reporting would trigger protocols designed for certainty.
Investigations. Statements. Escalations that assumed a single narrative source.
And I had just learned the narrative wasn't singular anymore.
"Log the contact," I said finally. "Minimal interpretation. Time, location, withdrawal."
They nodded - relieved to have something concrete to do.
I stayed where I was.
Watching the ground.
Listening to the mountain's delayed response ripple outward, recalibrating after the fact like a system embarrassed it hadn't noticed sooner.
The wards finally reacted - sluggish, embarrassed, like a system waking up late and pretending it hadn't slept.
The patrol moved up behind me.
"You alright?" one of them asked.
I nodded, but my attention was still on the ground.
