Christmas in ashes
What stood on my porch tonight wasn’t afraid—it was authorized.
That’s when it happens,not a sound, not a surge of silver,Just a subtle internal shift, like a gear locking into place. The presence presses closer than ever before, not warning, not advising.
Observing.“Consent threshold breached,” it says. “Population no longer seeking reassurance.”
“They’re seeking compliance,” I murmur.
“They are seeking removal of uncertainty,” it corrects. “You represent unresolved variables.”
Lucien turns toward me sharply. “What does that mean?”
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