Chapter Eight : The Swallow Does Not Know He Is A Swallow
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It cuts the sky like a blade, carrying omens in its wings.”
In this chapter, He walks through a town that no longer feels real, pulled by something He cannot see and cannot silence.
Time loosens.
Streets bend.
And a voice inside him begins to speak with dangerous certainty.
As a preacher calls out for lost souls, another force calls him forward—one that does not ask, only aligns.
This is a chapter about momentum without choice,
about what it means to move before you understand,
and about the terrible cost of realising too late that you were never the one steering.
The swallow flies.
But this time, it knows what it has become.
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