Where You Thought You Stood

There was a blur.

No wind. No flash. Just the sensation that something had moved—and the human body hadn't evolved fast enough to record it.

Amari swung.

His blade cut air, but the air pulled away too late, as if reality itself was still catching up to the fight.

She whispered behind him—not close, just wrong enough.

"You thought I'd be there."

He pivoted. She wasn't behind him.

Shylo lunged from the left, twin knives forward, shadow-stitched to his limbs—but she was already beside him before the second step finished. He twisted to parry, caught nothing, and a laugh echoed where her feet never were.

The Guardian wasn't rushing.

She was tuning them.

Amari stepped forward and back in the same breath. He didn't mean to. It was like his body had gotten new instructions somewhere between breath and blade. He spun. Caught a blur. Swiped.

Nothing.