Seris had said the name only once, and even now, standing in the quiet aftermath of it, the weight of the word seemed to linger in the air like smoke that refused to clear.
The Curator.
Aether watched her carefully, waiting for her to continue, though he could see the reluctance in the set of her shoulders, the way her hands folded together as though bracing herself for something she had avoided saying for a very long time. Beside him, the Traveler had gone unusually still, and that stillness alone told Aether more than any words could have. He had rarely seen the Traveler afraid of anything. He had never seen him afraid like this.
"You need to understand what it is," Seris finally said, her voice quiet but steady, "before you understand why even the Traveler fears it."
"I'm listening," Aether said.
