The lesson began with pain.
Arden Gate buckled under the fourth shadow's breath. Raw time pooled in gutters and sloshed across stone like heavy water. Five-minute loops snapped and tangled; seconds crawled past and sprinted back; a bell somewhere rang twice and then argued with itself about whether it had ever been forged.
Lio planted his feet in the square and forced the door inside him to sit straight. The lintel he had made from his hunger trembled like a beam in a storm. Ink leaked from his wrists and smoked when it touched the cobbles. He felt the Memory Council's choice like a hand on his back—steady, demanding.
Integrate.
