AISLYNClarity does not leave all at once.

It fractures.

At first, it is nothing more than a faint distortion, like a ripple on still water. A comment spoken too casually. A pause that lasts half a breath too long. A look exchanged between elders who should have learned by now not to underestimate my hearing.

Elliot does not confront me directly. He never does when he wants something to grow on its own.

He waits.

The morning after the man at the gate, the council is already gathered when I ...