"Hello, Ethan," the system replied, warmer than usual. "Keep your feet. Don't fall in love with stairs that haven't earned you."
The stairs preened with their neat light as if they had heard. He ignored them. He took the arch. The ruin shifted once, a small settling like a room putting its chairs back, ribs finishing their rise, lamps steady, insects choosing new circles without fuss.
The street felt awake in the way good tests feel awake. Curious. Patient. Ready to push.
He was ready to push back.
Fog thickened two steps past the arch. It came from the ground in soft ropes, draped itself across the street, and shrugged the old city out of its shape.
Stone smudged into mud. Lamplight flattened into a glow that felt damp. The air turned warm and close, filled with the sound of water doing small, private work somewhere beyond sight. Vines took the place of walls.
