The tremor reached the estate before the alarm did.
It wasn't strong enough to shake stone or rattle windows. Most people missed it entirely. But Arav felt it—an uneven ripple that brushed his senses like a wrong note in a familiar song.
He paused mid-step.
Vyomar did the same.
The white lion lifted his head, ears angling toward the western treeline. His tail stilled. A low, uncertain sound rolled from his chest—not a growl, not a warning. A question.
Arav's heartbeat slowed. He focused, the way Sharanya had taught him.
"It's not here," he murmured. "But it's close."
Within minutes, the estate shifted from calm to motion. Not panic—never panic—but readiness. Guards moved with purpose. Messengers ran. Aaryan emerged from the inner hall already armored, expression carved from quiet resolve.
"A shallow rift instability," he said to Sharanya as she joined him. "Outer ring. No breach yet."
"How far?" she asked.
"Far enough," Aaryan replied. "Close enough to matter."
Arav watched from the steps, hands clasped behind his back, Vyomar pressed against his leg. He didn't ask to go. He knew better.
But he listened.
"Meghala?" Aaryan called.
She was already there, flame licking lazily around her wrist. "On it."
She glanced at Arav, eyes sharp but reassuring. "You stay put, little flame. This one's not for you."
Arav nodded.
That didn't stop the feeling from crawling up his spine as they departed—Aaryan, Meghala, and a small unit of guards disappearing beyond the gates with efficient silence.
The estate waited.
Hours passed.
The sky dimmed toward evening, clouds gathering without rain. Servants spoke in lower voices. Even Isha seemed quieter, sitting beside Arav and tracing patterns on the stone with a stick.
"Bhaiya," she asked suddenly, "does the world get sick?"
Arav blinked. "Sick?"
She nodded. "Like when Furbols eats too fast."
Vyomar huffed, offended.
Arav thought carefully. "Sometimes," he said. "And sometimes… it almost does."
Isha considered this, then nodded solemnly. "Okay."
The system stirred then—soft, restrained.
[Sign-In Opportunity Detected]
Location: Boundary Watchpoint — Estate Perimeter
Arav hesitated. He hadn't moved from the steps.
Sign in, he thought.
Warmth settled behind his eyes, subtle and fleeting.
[Sign-In Complete]
Reward: Threat Sense (Minor, Passive)]
Description: Host gains brief instinctive awareness of imminent external danger within limited range.]
A moment later, his chest tightened.
Not fear.
Pressure.
Like a breath held too long.
"Something changed," Arav said quietly.
Sharanya looked at him at once. "Where?"
"Out there," he replied, pointing west. "But… it's fading."
As if in answer, the distant tension eased. Not vanished—but pulled back, like a tide retreating before it touched shore.
When Aaryan and Meghala returned after nightfall, the difference was visible even before they spoke.
Not damage.
Fatigue.
"The rift collapsed on its own," Meghala said, dropping onto the steps with a sigh. "Didn't like stabilizing. Slid back into nothing."
Sharanya frowned. "That doesn't happen often."
"No," Aaryan agreed. "It doesn't."
Arav met his father's gaze. "It almost opened."
Aaryan studied him for a long moment, then nodded once. "Yes."
Vyomar growled softly, tail flicking.
"There was something on the other side," Meghala added. "Not trying to cross. Just… watching."
Isha looked up. "Like when people watch me draw?"
Meghala paused. "Uh. Sure. Exactly like that."
That night, Arav couldn't sleep.
He lay awake, staring at the ceiling while Vyomar breathed steadily beside him. The threat sense lingered faintly, like a bruise that hadn't fully healed.
He thought about the rift.
About how close it had come.
About how little it took for things to change.
The next morning, Aaryan called him to the training yard earlier than usual.
They didn't practice fire.
They didn't practice movement.
They stood, side by side, watching the horizon as the sun climbed slowly.
"The world will not always give warnings," Aaryan said. "Sometimes it only gives margins."
Arav nodded. "Like yesterday."
"Yes."
"Did we do anything wrong?"
Aaryan considered the question. "No. But we cannot rely on 'almost' forever."
Arav absorbed that quietly.
Later, as he walked the perimeter with Vyomar, he noticed small things he hadn't before—stones displaced by hurried boots, faint scorch marks already cleaned away, the way guards' eyes lingered longer on the treeline.
The world had leaned closer.
Not enough to strike.
Enough to remind them it could.
Vyomar nudged Arav's hand, seeking reassurance.
Arav scratched behind his ear. "Not yet," he whispered. "But soon… we'll need to be ready."
The lion's golden eyes reflected the sky.
Somewhere beyond the horizon, something had looked toward them—and decided to wait.
For now.
But waiting, Arav was learning, was never the same as leaving.