Thalia took half a step forward. Instinctive. Curious.
"No." My voice came out low, but sharp.
It wasn't just a warning; it was a line drawn on the ground between impulse and disaster.
She froze, half step suspended, like someone who feels the change in the air before hearing the thunder.
"They were delivering something," she said, still transfixed, her eyes fixed on the figure as if trying to force meaning out of it.
But I had seen this kind of movement before.
It wasn't a delivery.
It was deference.
"No. They were authorizing something."
The words came out slowly, like someone choosing scalpels, not syllables. That hadn't been a simple exchange of information. It was confirmation that something could happen.
"How do you know?"
She wanted a logical argument, maybe concrete evidence. But there are things that can't be explained with facts. Only with patterns.
"Because there was no hesitation."
