They found the place by accident.
Which meant it wasn't an accident at all.
Rae had been cross-checking interference maps—zones where resonance modeling failed in ordinary ways, not catastrophic ones. Places written off as noisy, inefficient, human.
Most analysts ignored those zones. Too messy. Too unreliable.
Kael leaned over her shoulder and stopped her.
"Go back," he said.
Rae frowned. "That's just data corruption."
"No," Kael replied quietly. "That's hesitation."
The settlement didn't have a name anyone agreed on.
Some called it Ridge-End.
Others just called it the place that never settled.
It sprawled across broken terrain—half-collapsed buildings, repurposed tunnels, scaffolds built on top of scaffolds. Nothing symmetrical. Nothing central. No leadership council. No infrastructure hub.
It shouldn't have worked.
And yet—
Mira watched people move through the chaos with practiced ease. "This place is a nightmare."
"Yes," Kael said softly. "And it's still here."
Ashveil spoke, careful.
"Structural keystone density: low."
They walked the streets unnoticed.
Not because people didn't care—but because attention didn't organize here. Conversations overlapped. Responsibilities blurred. If someone fell, three others helped without anyone being assigned to.
No one waited for permission.
No one waited for Kael.
That was the key.
Rae whispered, "This place doesn't optimize."
"It adapts," Kael replied.
Ashveil added.
"Null Accord activity probability: minimal."
Mira stiffened. "They haven't touched this place?"
"No," Kael said. "They can't afford to."
They found the mark at the edge of the settlement.
A scar in the ground—old, shallow, incomplete.
Null had started here once.
And stopped.
Rae knelt, eyes wide. "Why would they abort?"
Kael crouched beside her.
"Because removing this place wouldn't collapse anything," he said. "It would just… smear."
Ashveil confirmed.
"Null operations favor high-yield keystone removal."
Mira stared at the chaotic skyline. "There's nothing clean to cut."
"Yes," Kael said. "And nothing worth the cost."
They stayed for three days.
Kael didn't stabilize anything.
Didn't intervene.
Didn't even announce himself.
And nothing fell apart.
Arguments happened. Fights broke out. Repairs were sloppy and fast. Food distribution was uneven—but never stopped.
No one waited for order.
They lived between systems.
Rae finally said it out loud. "This place survives because it's inefficient."
Kael smiled faintly. "Because it doesn't pretend to be coherent."
Ashveil spoke.
"Absence requires structure to negate."
On the third night, Kael climbed a rusted tower overlooking the settlement.
Lights flickered inconsistently. Paths shifted daily. People argued loudly and forgave quickly.
It was ugly.
It was alive.
Mira joined him, arms crossed. "You're thinking of copying this."
Kael shook his head. "No."
She frowned. "Then what?"
"I'm thinking of protecting it," Kael replied. "Not by fixing it. By making sure nothing turns it into a foundation."
Ashveil's voice was quiet.
"You intend to cultivate non-keystone resilience."
"Yes," Kael said. "Across many places."
Mira exhaled slowly. "That means giving up control."
Kael nodded. "That's the point."
Rae joined them, eyes bright with a dangerous kind of excitement. "If we map traits instead of structures—shared redundancy, overlapping responsibility, no central authority—"
"We can teach people how to survive removal," Kael finished.
Ashveil paused.
Then:
"This approach reduces null efficiency."
Kael looked out over the settlement.
"You erase foundations," he said softly.
"We erase the idea that foundations are necessary."
The wind moved strangely across Ridge-End.
Not folding. Not aligning.
Just moving.
Far away, the Null Accord reviewed anomaly reports.
They flagged Ridge-End as low priority.
Too messy.
Too inefficient.
Too expensive to erase cleanly.
Kael smiled faintly when he felt it.
Absence hesitated here.
And hesitation meant time.