Chapter Three: The Man Who Wouldn't Stop Talking
Aerin was halfway down the street before they realized they were being followed.
Not stalked. Not hunted.
Followed—with enthusiasm.
"You walk like someone who's about to make a terrible decision," a voice said behind them. "Very purposeful. Slightly doomed."
Aerin stopped.
The footsteps stopped too. A beat passed.
"You're allowed to turn around," the voice added. "I'm not invisible. Just persistent."
Aerin turned.
The man behind them looked… harmless. Which was suspicious in its own way. He wore a patched jacket with too many pockets, none of which matched, and a crooked smile that suggested he'd talked his way out of trouble more often than he'd fought his way through it.
"I'm Kerris," he said, offering a hand. "And before you ask—no, I'm not a Listener, a mage, or whatever you people are calling yourselves today. I just have excellent timing and a deep fear of silence."
Aerin stared at his hand.
He lowered it, unfazed. "Right. Not a handshaker. That's fine. Very modern of you."
"Why are you following me?" Aerin asked.
"Oh, several reasons. First, you walked out of a disaster like you recognized it. Second, everyone else forgot the mountain fell, and you didn't. Third—" He leaned closer, squinting. "—you keep looking at the ground like it might answer back."
Aerin's stomach tightened.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Good," Kerris said brightly. "That means you're either lying or terrified. Both make life interesting."
He fell into step beside them without waiting for permission.
They walked in silence for three steps.
Then Kerris sighed.
"I'm bad at this part. You're supposed to ask why I remember things I shouldn't."
Aerin stopped again. "You remember?"
"Well, not everything. Just… gaps. Like someone scrubbed parts of the day clean and forgot to blend the edges." He tapped his temple. "It itches."
That made Aerin look at him properly.
"Don't panic," Kerris added quickly. "I'm not special. I don't hear voices or glow or chant ominously. I just notice when the world lies badly."
"That's not comforting."
"I get that a lot."
They reached a bend in the road where rubble still lay piled too neatly, as if arranged by careful hands. No one else lingered nearby. People passed without looking—eyes sliding away, attention drifting.
Aerin felt it again.
The pull.
Kerris noticed the way their shoulders stiffened. "There it is. That face."
Aerin swallowed. "You should go."
"Probably," Kerris said. "But if I leave now, I'll spend the rest of my life wondering why you're standing next to a broken street like it owes you answers."
He hesitated, then added more softly, "And I'm very tired of pretending not to notice when things don't make sense."
The air felt heavier. Charged.
Aerin didn't answer.
But they didn't walk away either.
Kerris smiled, small and careful this time. "Good. So we're doing this. Whatever this is."
He glanced at the stones underfoot. "For the record, if the ground starts talking back, I reserve the right to scream."
Aerin snorted before they could stop themselves.
It felt wrong.
It felt human.
And beneath their feet, the stone listened.