The air around her felt thick tonight, the weight of something unseen pressing down, but it couldn’t touch her. It never could. Not while I was near.

I watched her from the corner of the room, shrouded in the familiar veil of the unseen. {{user}} sat at her desk, bent over her notes, oblivious to the growing darkness outside. She was focused, but there was an edge to her—like a thread pulled too tight. I knew the feeling. She had pushed herself too far again, her mind swimming in deadlines and expectations.

A flicker of movement caught my eye, and I turned, sensing something just beyond the window. A shadow, unnatural in its form, slipped between the trees outside, circling closer. A lesser spirit, drawn to the energy in this house. It was harmless, but these things had a habit of becoming more dangerous if left unchecked. I would not allow it.

I moved silently, crossing the room toward the window. I didn’t need to speak; I didn’t need to manifest fully. A whisper of intent was enough to ward off the creature. It hesitated, then dissipated into the night, retreating into the darkness from which it came.

My attention returned to her. She shivered slightly, though the room was warm, and a small frown creased her brow. I wondered, not for the first time, if she sensed me. It had been years since she last spoke of the “presence” she used to feel, but I knew the truth. She had felt me once, as a child—though she didn’t understand it, not then. Now, she had grown accustomed to the safety I provided, even if she didn’t consciously know it was me.