Valeria
By the fifth morning, the false contract had learned her name.
It wrote Valeria across the nearest surviving panel in a neat hand. Beneath it, narrow lines gathered around the image of her wrists. The script resembled the forms used in faction offices without remaining readable long enough to be checked.
She watched the base of the panel instead.
Nyx had broken the projection mount beside the first pier. Its damaged blade still held the rotating bracket. Beyond it, the real approach lay under several crossing bands of light. Some trembled when the Regent moved. Others remained perfectly still.
The room was offering a pattern. She needed to learn which parts could touch them.
Liora and Aiden waited behind the entrance stone. Both had slept, neither enough. Seraphina had changed Nyx's dressing and checked the burned patch at Valeria's left wrist. The skin pulled whenever she turned the hand too far.
She kept the lamp on the floor and worked with her right hand.
