Morning hit Nadir's End like a lie told too smoothly.
The fog was gone, and the air smelled painted—fresh, flat, artificial.
Workers in pale coats scraped the streets clean, washing away the scorch marks where the tent once stood.
By noon, it was as if nothing had ever burned.
Cael stood near a half-empty fruit stall, chewing a slice of tart veth apple.
It tasted wrong—too perfect, like someone had rewritten the flavor.
Aunt Mara was arguing with a vendor about salt again. Normal things. Familiar things.
Only, every time she blinked, her expression reset—like the world was cutting frames.
> "They said it was a gas fire," she muttered, not meeting his eyes.
"Best not to think about it, Cael. The Order will clean it all up."
Cael glanced at the white-cloaked men across the square.
The Order of the First Thought — or "Whites," as the locals whispered.
They weren't soldiers, not exactly. But the way people avoided looking at them said everything.
---
One of them stopped by his stall.
A man with silver-threaded sleeves and eyes too steady. His name tag read Rann Veir.
"Cael," he said pleasantly, like a neighbor greeting you on a sunny day. "I've been looking for you."
Cael's pulse stumbled. "Why?"
"Routine check. The incident two nights ago caused what we call an Echo Deviation. We're confirming residual exposure."
"Exposure to what?"
Rann smiled the way a knife smiles—clean, sharp, reflection only.
"To curiosity."
---
Inside the White Annex—a canvas structure filled with humming machines—Rann attached a glass disk to Cael's wrist.
The disk vibrated faintly, emitting a low hum.
Cael winced. "What is this thing doing?"
"Measuring truth," Rann said.
Then, almost softly: "Try not to lie to yourself while it's running."
He didn't explain what that meant.
The disk pulsed once, and the mark on Cael's chest responded with a faint glow.
Somewhere deep in the machine, a tone climbed higher—like the sound of a breath being held too long.
---
When it ended, Rann looked almost disappointed.
"You're clean enough," he said, pulling the device away. "But you should stay away from reflections. They remember things you shouldn't."
Before Cael could ask, Rann turned and left, boots silent on the polished floor.
That night, Cael dreamed of the same hum, only louder—pushing through his skull like a second heartbeat.
When he woke, the glass disk from the test was on his desk.
It was still glowing.
---
End of chapter 6
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