Chapter 124. Owner’s Claim

Alicia stepped under the ward-stones’ shade without breath, without weight, without apology—the engine’s contingency wearing her outline. The hinge flared once on instinct, then held, as if a door had remembered good manners too late to slam. Rose’s cup rattled on the shelf; the string on the post drew tight as if a list had been yanked straight.

“Finally,” the not-woman said, voice clean as a receipt.

Jules’ fingers bit into Aria’s wrist. “Pairs,” she murmured.

Aria lifted their joined hands so the hinge could admire the posture it had been practicing all night. “Witness,” she said to the square, because the first thing tidy tries to steal is audience.

Ward-stones answered with a scrape rude enough to pass for devotion. The bench shifted under the vessel, sitting harder, as if chairs can put on armor when ghosts arrive. The null slid its cool mouth wider beneath the seat, the way a cat claims floor when visitors smell like rules.

Alicia’s gaze found Se