The Weaver’s Silent Resolve

Skyline shifted its attention again, preparing to move on. But before it left, it sent a soft pulse of light toward Lyra and Mina—barely perceptible, but enough to catch the corner of Mina’s eye. She glanced up, and for a moment, their gazes met.

“What do you think it’s trying to tell us?” Mina murmured.

Lyra shrugged, though her expression softened. “Maybe it’s just saying it’s here.”

“Maybe,” Mina said, though she couldn’t shake the feeling that the weaver’s gaze carried something deeper.

As Skyline glided silently into the trees, it considered what was to come. The humans were fragile, but they were resilient. Victor’s presence might strain the delicate web of trust and creation they had built, but even disruption could be woven into something new.

And if the humans faltered, the Creche would be there—not as rulers, but as companions, always weaving, always listening.