Page 23

Clean.

Again.

Measured.

Again.

The motion didn’t change.

Didn’t need to.

Nothing in this room did.

The desk was bare. The chair unmoved. The air still held the same quiet it always had. Controlled. Hesitant. Like it’d been waiting for me to come back.

I tilted the blade slightly, feeling the balance shift in my hand. Perfect. It always was. It’d been the first thing I reached for—and the last I let go of.

I finished cleaning the blade. Folded the cloth. Placed it back in the drawer. The steel was warm now. Like it was part of me. Then I stilled⁠—

Not a sound.

Not a movement.

An invasion.

Slight.

Fragile.

Unwelcome.

Something was different.

I placed the blade down. Aligned it. Stopped. Adjusted. No. Not right. I shifted it again. A flicker of irritation rose—I pushed it down. Stood. I tugged my sleeve down over my wrist. One side. Then the other. Breathed once.

It shouldn’t have followed me here.

But it had.

Because I brought it.

Four steps to the doorway. Two into the middle of the hall. Even. Measured. Controlled. Air rushed in around me. Fifteen steps down⁠—

Then it changed. Not colder. More of it.

I moved through the sitting room. Through the doorway into the library.

Slowed.

I was stronger here.

The intrusion.

The air shifted.

Opened.

Different.