Chapter Ten: The Shape of Warning
They didn't notice her at first.
That was the unsettling part.
Sereth stood at the edge of the bridge like she'd always belonged there—one hand resting on the low stone wall, gaze fixed on the slow, dark water below. Travelers passed her without comment, carts rattled by, life flowing around her as if she were just another quiet thought the city didn't bother to finish.
Aerin felt her before they saw her.
The hum beneath the stone tightened.
Kerris slowed. "Please tell me you feel that too."
Maelra did. Her steps shortened, careful. "Yes."
Aerin swallowed. "She's waiting."
Sereth turned.
No mask this time.
Her face was ordinary in the way sharp knives often are—plain until you realized how precisely everything fit. Dark hair pulled back, eyes a pale, unsettling gray that reflected more light than they should have.
She smiled faintly. Not unkindly.
"Good," she said. "You didn't run."
Kerris blinked. "We talked about this. Running is kind of our thing."
Sereth's gaze flicked to him, measuring. "You'd be bad at it. You think while you move."
Kerris frowned. "Rude. Accurate. But rude."
Sereth's attention returned to Aerin.
"You used transference," she said calmly. "In public."
Aerin's stomach dropped. "I didn't know how else—"
"I know," Sereth interrupted. "That's why I'm here."
Maelra stepped forward, stone hand heavy at her side. "You've been following us."
"Yes."
"No attempt to hide it," Maelra said.
Sereth shrugged. "If I wanted you gone, you'd already be a story people argue about."
Kerris sucked in a breath. "Comforting."
Sereth leaned against the bridge railing, eyes never leaving Aerin. "You felt fear and treated it like a tool."
"I helped him," Aerin said quietly.
"You shifted the weight," Sereth replied. "You didn't erase it."
A pause.
"Do you know where that fear went afterward?"
Aerin's throat tightened. "Into me."
"And when you released it?"
"I don't know."
Sereth nodded once. "Neither did you. That's the danger."
Maelra crossed her arms. "Then why aren't you stopping them?"
Sereth's expression finally changed—just slightly.
"Because I'm not sure I should."
Silence stretched.
Kerris frowned. "That feels like the wrong answer."
Sereth's gaze drifted to the water below. "The world is changing. Old structures are cracking. New echoes are waking up."
She looked back at Aerin. "People like you appear when balance is already failing."
Aerin felt cold. "People like me?"
"Untrained," Sereth said. "Unanchored. Able to touch the Weave without permission."
Maelra stiffened.
"That used to be called heresy," Maelra said.
Sereth nodded. "It used to be called a lot of things. Most of them ended in fire."
Kerris winced. "History is such a fan of overreaction."
Sereth stepped closer to Aerin now, lowering her voice.
"You will keep using it," she said. "Not because you want to—but because you'll believe there's no other choice."
Aerin met her gaze. "Then teach me."
Sereth hesitated.
Just for a heartbeat.
"I can't," she said. "I don't know how you work."
Aerin blinked. "But you know the magic."
"I know rules," Sereth replied. "You break them by accident."
She straightened, stepping back. "That makes you either necessary… or catastrophic."
Maelra's voice was sharp. "You came all this way to tell us that?"
"No," Sereth said. "I came to give you time."
"Time for what?" Kerris asked.
Sereth's eyes hardened.
"Before the Choir realizes you don't just feel echoes," she said. "You move them."
The hum beneath the bridge pulsed—deep, uneasy.
Sereth turned to leave.
"One more thing," Aerin said.
She paused.
"When you look at me," Aerin asked, "what do you see?"
Sereth didn't answer immediately.
Then, quietly: "A fault line."
She walked away.
The city noise rushed back in around them, louder than before.
Kerris let out a breath he'd clearly been holding. "Well. That was… ominous but weirdly polite."
Maelra stared after Sereth. "She's afraid."
Aerin hugged their arms to their chest, eyes on the dark water below.
"So am I," they said.
But the fear felt thinner now.
Less certain.
And somewhere deep beneath the bridge, the world shifted—just a little—as if preparing.