Amrit stood at the edge of the main path one ordinary morning and watched a faint glow trace Elara's boots.
She had walked the same patrol route every day for weeks. Now the ground remembered it. Thin lines of light followed her steps, looping back on themselves in a neat circuit around a cluster of trees.
Elara noticed after the third lap. She stopped, frowned, and tried to head toward the training field instead. Her feet kept pulling her back into the circle.
"Again," she muttered. She forced a sharp turn. The loop resisted like an invisible hand on her shoulders.
Elara dropped into a low roll to break free, came up fast, and spun into another exaggerated flip that looked more like a stage performance than practical movement. Three trainees stared from the sidelines.
"Captain? You alright?" one called.
