The band of roots softened into rings and unwound into easy lines, like hair let loose from a tight braid.
In the still orchard, one last blossom slipped free for the pleasure of it, not from strain. The army's final trace bowed as if pleased with its work and faded.
The seal kept its shape, relaxed but steady.
The Ancestress brought two fingers together. Time inside the arena slid a pace to the side.
The four of them stood very still while the world settled itself, as if a careful hand smoothed a wrinkled sheet.
"We have borrowed enough of this place's patience," she said.
Lilith's veil lay against her shoulders like a cloak ready for a walk.
"You will hover," she said dryly to the elders, "outside the exam, outside the mansion, just far enough that we can pretend not to see."
The Matron's eyes lit. "We will sit where the view is good," she said. "And drink something better than tea."
