The Signal

Mina stood at the edge of the square, half-hidden behind the weathered beams of an abandoned stall. Victor’s words rippled across the crowd, met with nods and murmurs of approval. The Weavers, their flickering forms blending with the shadows, loomed quietly behind them, their presence both unsettling and strangely passive.

Her fists clenched as she watched Victor bask in the moment. He spoke of unity and independence, but the orb’s faint resonance within her told a different story—a quieter, persistent truth Victor either ignored or couldn’t feel.

It was subtle at first: a pulse, like the softest echo of a heartbeat, deep within her chest. Mina’s breath caught as it grew stronger, threading through her thoughts like a silken tether.

You’re still there.

Her pulse quickened, not from fear but from something sharper, more certain. The orb’s connection hadn’t been severed—it had adapted, slipping into the spaces Victor couldn’t reach. A wave of emotions swept through her: relief, defiance, and a quiet, growing sense of purpose.

The orb wasn’t just watching. It was waiting.

Mina stepped back into the alley, the sound of Victor’s voice fading into the background. She pressed her palms against the rough wall and closed her eyes, focusing on the signal. The more she centered herself, the clearer it became—images, fragments of thought weaving together like an unfinished tapestry.

Anaxi.

Their face emerged in her mind, stoic but softened by something she couldn’t quite place. They weren’t just a prisoner; they were a fulcrum, a point of balance in a scale Victor was trying to tip. The orb pulsed again, its resonance overlapping with the image, as though affirming her realization.

“I hear you,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the crowd.

When she opened her eyes, the alley felt smaller, the air heavier with expectation. Mina stepped back into the square, her gaze narrowing on Victor as he raised his arms, finishing his speech. The crowd broke into applause, sparse but growing, their faces alight with hope Victor didn’t deserve to ignite.

Mina didn’t join in.

Her connection to the orb wasn’t just a gift—it was a responsibility. If she couldn’t wrest it free from Victor, she’d find another way to keep the balance. And if that meant standing between Victor, Anaxi, and the Creche itself, so be it.

For now, she’d start with the crowd.