The Guardian returns without announcement.
There is no flare of light this time, no rush of silver heat. One moment the chamber is empty except for Adam and me, the next there is a presence folding into the space, like mist learning how to stand upright. I feel it before I see it. The air thickens. The runes along the walls dim further, as if making room.
It is different.
Less solid than before. Its form wavers at the edges, not unstable, but layered, like multiple shapes occupying the same outline. When it speaks, the sound does not come from a single place. The voice carries depth now, harmonics threading through it that make my bones ache faintly in recognition.
“Addison.”
The way it says my name is wrong. Not incorrect, but incomplete, like it is reaching for something closer and
