The rumble beneath the street faded, but the silence it left behind was worse.
Liora pushed herself to her feet, her heart still racing. The alleyway looked the same as before—brick walls, flickering lights, damp pavement—but now she knew. The city wasn't just broken. It was layered. Watching. Choosing.
Kael released her wrist. "We can't stay here."
"Because of that thing?" she asked.
"Because of what you did to it."
Her stomach tightened. "I didn't do anything."
"That's the problem," he replied. "You reacted. The city noticed."
They turned onto another street—and Liora stopped abruptly.
The road ahead shouldn't have existed.
The buildings were wrong—too narrow, too tall, their edges blurring as though unfinished. Street signs hung blank, their letters erased. Even the air smelled different—old, metallic, heavy with memory.
"This street isn't on any map," Kael said. "Rule one: don't trust what the city shows you."
Liora's pulse jumped. "That's a rule?"
"Yes," he said. "And you already broke it."
A movement caught her eye.
A girl stood at the end of the street, no older than sixteen. Pale. Still. Watching them too closely.
"Kael," Liora whispered.
"I see her."
The girl smiled—and split.
Two identical figures now stood side by side.
"Run," Kael said.
They bolted.
The air screamed as they passed, shadows snapping at their heels. The ground shifted beneath Liora's feet, trying to throw her off balance. Her lungs burned, but something deeper urged her forward—an instinct she didn't recognize but obeyed anyway.
They dove through a rusted doorway just as the street collapsed behind them.
Darkness swallowed them.
Liora gasped, clutching her chest.
Kael braced the door shut, breathing hard. "Rule two," he said grimly. "If the city offers you something familiar—it's lying."
Her voice shook. "What happens if I break all the rules?"
Kael met her gaze.
"Then the city stops testing you," he said softly.
"And claims you."
A faint sound echoed above them.
Footsteps