Gahom watched.
Not hungrily—not yet. Just... observing. The community went about its days, aware of the ancient presence but refusing to let fear rule.
"They're handling this well," Glad observed.
"They've had practice," Maya replied. "We're basically experts at being watched by ancient entities now."
"Should we put that on a t-shirt?"
"Already did. Selling well."
Gahom watched the humor, the connection, the resilience. It didn't understand—but for the first time, it wanted to.
Brother.
The Watcher appeared. Yes?
*Why do they laugh? When they know I am here? When they know I could consume them?
*Because they choose joy over fear. Every time. That is their strength.
*It is... strange.
*It is everything.
Gahom watched.
Something stirred.
Not hunger.
Curiosity.