The Night

Dylan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his breath still uneven. He hadn't taken much time. Just the essentials. The descriptions. The structure. The pillar. The symbols. The vibration. What he had seen. What he had felt. Everything a careful and still-breathing spy could bring back.

Alka listened in silence, her eyes fixed on him with that suspended attentiveness she always showed when things got serious. She was already sorting the facts in her head. Classifying them, cross-checking them. She was likely preparing the message she would send tonight—or tomorrow, at the first breach in the routine.

"I think our employer already knows about that thing," he said, his words slow and weighted.

She lifted her eyes slightly toward him. Not surprised. Not really.

"Besides, he didn't give more details about the mission, except that we should report anything we hear or see on this base," she added, her voice almost tired.