Power didn't always announce itself.
Sometimes it moved quietly—through debts that were never written down, favors never repaid, names whispered once and then deliberately forgotten. Influence didn't need volume. It needed patience.
Jack learned that lesson the night he stepped beyond the Triangle's walls without permission.
There were cameras, of course. Surveillance grids, motion wards, patrol cycles optimized to discourage "unsanctioned exploration." Most students never tested them. Those who did weren't subtle.
Jack was.
The moment he crossed the invisible boundary marking academy jurisdiction, the air changed. Not magically—structurally. The city below the Triangle didn't hum with controlled energy or institutional order.
It breathed.
