“Someone has been living here,” I murmur.
Korr nods once. “Recently enough to plan.”
His confirmation tightens the knot in my chest. We continue, but the deeper we go, the stranger the sounds become. Our footsteps fade too quickly, swallowed by geometry rather than distance. Wind funnels between structures and vanishes abruptly, leaving pockets of unnatural quiet that make my skin prickle.
I glance up.
For just a heartbeat, I think I see movement along an elevated walkway. A shape where there shouldn’t be one. When I focus, it’s gone.
“Korr,” I say softly.
He stops at once. All of us freeze in a loose cluster, backs instinctively angled toward one another.
“You see it too,” he says, not a question.
“Yes.”
Rverre inhales sharply. “They’re being careful.”
“Who?” Illadon asks, his jaw tight.
She doesn’t answer.
We start moving again, slower, threading between structures that lean toward each other like conspirators. My awareness stretches thin, pulled between pain, fear, and something elseentirely. The way Korr’s presence steadies me even as everything else feels wrong.
Whatever’s watching us isn’t ready to decide what we are yet.
We’re being funneled.
It’s not obvious or immediate. It’s just enough that I notice the routes Korr keeps choosing are thinning faster than they should. Streets pinch down into corridors. Open spans resolve into alleys with too many vertical sightlines and not enough exits. The kind of places that look survivable until you try to leave them quickly.
I watch Korr’s shoulders tighten by degrees. He hasn’t said anything, but his stride has changed. Shorter. More deliberate. He’s no longer mapping for exploration. He’s mapping for containment. That thought sends a chill through me.
We pass beneath an overhead structure that once connected two buildings. Its underside is webbed with cracks but holds. I tilt my head instinctively, tracking the shadows above. Nothing moves. That’s worse than if something had.
My ankle flares as the ground shifts again. I suck in a breath before the sound can escape me. Korr’s hand lifts reflexively, drifting towards me. He stops, before touching me. I don’t know whether to be grateful or furious.
“You should lean on the wall,” he murmurs, low enough that only I hear.
I do. Pride be damned. The stone is cool beneath my palm, grounding. It also makes me painfully aware of how visible my weakness has become. Every adjustment I make ripplesoutward, changing how we move, how we’re seen. How we’re judged.
Illadon glances back at me, concern flickering across his face before he schools it away. He’s learned not to hover. Learned that offering help too quickly can feel like doubt. I taught him that. Rverre slows, head tilting. Her gaze tracks upward again, then sideways, then behind us.
“They’re closer,” she says softly.
“How many?” Illadon asks.
She hesitates. “Enough.”
Korr changes direction abruptly, angling us down a narrower side passage that curves out of sight. I recognize the tactic. Break predictable patterns. Force whoever’s watching to reposition.
It doesn’t work the way it should. The sense of attention doesn’t fade. If anything, it sharpens. As if the city itself has leaned in, curious to see what we’ll do next.
“This isn’t right,” I whisper.
Korr doesn’t disagree. “No.”
He slows near a recessed entryway, scanning the structure with a practiced eye. Thick stone walls. Limited access points. Elevated sightlines that could be defended if necessary.
