OBSERVER LOG: MONOLITH C//7
I watched it surface again tonight.
Not rise -
Surface.
Like it was never buried, only waiting for the world to remember it.
The wind avoided its edges.
The light bent around its mass.
And the glyph…
The glyph wasn’t glowing.
It was looking.
The others think these structures are anchors.
Stabilizers.
Tools.
They have not stood close enough to hear the hum beneath the stone.
They have not felt the pull behind the ribs -
the way it tests your shape,
your memory,
your truth-pattern.
This one is older than the Ridge Plains.
Older than the Desert Lattice.
Older than anything that pretends to be stable.
I do not understand its language.
But it understands mine.
And tonight, it answered.
“You are not observing me,”
it said without sound.
“You are remembering.”
I stepped back.
The valley disappeared.
The sky folded.
For a moment, I was no one.
And in that blankness,
I understood the warning:
The Seed does not open doors.
It opens witnesses.
