The Keeper’s Job

Some time later, Mina paced in a small clearing, the orb nestled in her satchel, its light pulsing erratically. She jabbed a finger toward it as if it were a person she could reason with.

“I don’t get you,” she huffed. “You’re supposed to help me, right? You’re supposed to be my friend! So why do you keep trying to make me think about him?”

The orb dimmed slightly, its movements slower, almost hesitant.

“I don’t want to talk about Victor,” Mina continued, her voice trembling with frustration. “He’s awful! He hurts people! Why would you even care about him?”

The orb’s light flickered in a complex pattern, but Mina couldn’t interpret it. She crossed her arms, glaring at it as though sheer determination would make it speak in words.

“You’re so annoying,” she muttered. “You act like you know everything, but you don’t even say anything! How am I supposed to figure this out if you won’t—”

“Mina.”

The voice made her jump. She turned to see Meera standing at the edge of the clearing, her sharp eyes taking in the scene. Behind her, Skyline’s glow pulsed faintly, a quiet presence.

“You’re yelling at a ball of light,” Meera said dryly, stepping closer. “What’s going on?”

Mina hesitated, her frustration deflating slightly under Meera’s calm gaze. “It’s the orb,” she said finally, her voice quieter. “It keeps… it keeps trying to make me think about Victor. Like it wants me to do something about him. But I don’t want to. I don’t even want to think about him.”

Meera knelt beside Mina, looking at the orb thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s not about what you want,” she said gently. “Maybe it’s about what the orb sees.”

Mina frowned. “What do you mean?”

Meera reached out, her fingers just brushing the orb’s surface. It pulsed faintly in response.

“The Creche—and this orb, specifically—don’t think the way we do,” Meera explained. “They don’t see people as good or bad. They see… patterns. Connections. Victor might be a threat, but he’s also a piece of the puzzle. Maybe the orb is trying to understand why he’s like this.”

Mina bit her lip, glancing at the orb. “But why does it have to bug me about it? Why can’t it just figure it out on its own?”

Meera smiled faintly. “Because you’re its keeper. It trusts you to help it make sense of things.”

Mina sighed, sinking to the ground. “But I don’t know how to help. I don’t even know what it wants.”

“Sometimes, it’s not about knowing what to do. Sometimes, it’s about listening,” said Meera.

Mina glanced at the orb, then back at Meera. “But it doesn’t talk. It just… flashes and glows. How do I listen to that?”

Meera leaned back on her heels, watching Mina carefully. “Maybe you start by telling it what you think,” she suggested. “Not what you think it wants to hear—just what’s on your mind. Listen to yourself for a moment.”

Mina hesitated, then reached out to rest her hand on the orb’s surface. It was warm under her touch, the light within steadying slightly.

“I think Victor’s scary,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “I think he’s mean, and I don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt people the way he does. And… I think I don’t want you to get hurt, either.”

The orb glowed softly, its light wrapping around Mina’s fingers like a reassuring touch. For a moment, she thought she felt something—a quiet, almost imperceptible echo of understanding.

Meera watched silently, her expression unreadable. Skyline hovered close, its glow a quiet counterpoint to the orb’s light.

“Maybe it’s not about Victor at all,” Meera said after a moment. “Maybe it’s about you. About what you’re afraid of—and what you’re strong enough to face.”

Mina looked up at her, then back at the orb. Its light was steady now, no longer erratic or overwhelming. She nodded slowly.

“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll try. But you have to meet me halfway, okay?”

The orb pulsed faintly, its glow almost playful. Mina smiled despite herself.

Meera rose to her feet, brushing dirt from her knees. “You’ve got this, kid,” she said. “And remember—you don’t have to do it alone.”

Mina nodded, holding the orb close. She didn’t have all the answers yet, but for the first time, she felt like they were starting to speak the same language—even if it wasn’t made of words.