---
The world moved before John did.
A low, deep shift—like the groan of old stone adjusting in its place.
At first, it almost felt like home.
The way the wind stirred through the cracks in the wooden walls of their old village hut. The distant murmur of voices outside, people rising with the sun.
For a fleeting second, he was back there.
Then—he opened his eyes.
And the cold reality of Vash'Kael settled over him.
The stone walls stretched high above, carved with elegant markings, flickering in the dim morning light. The ceiling wasn't wood, but smooth, dark rock. No sky. No trees.
John exhaled slowly, sitting up.
The room was still heavy with sleep.
Finn lay sprawled across his bed, mouth slightly open, snoring softly.
Aurora had somehow managed to keep her side of the bed perfectly neat, her arm draped lazily over her forehead.
Jake had slept against the wall, still in most of his clothes, arms crossed like he hadn't truly let himself relax.
King had taken the bed nearest the window, already awake, staring out at the city with quiet thoughtfulness.
Sally, curled up on her side, had shifted slightly—half awake, half still in a dream.
And Harry…
John glanced toward the fireplace.
Harry stood there.
Again.
Staring.
John pinched the bridge of his nose.
JOHN (muttering, deadpan)
"…It's too early for this."
Before he could decide whether to address it, Finn snorted in his sleep, turning onto his side.
Then, groggily—he muttered.
FINN (muffled, half-conscious)
"Mm… no more… rock soup…"
John sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.
JOHN (quietly, shaking his head)
"So much for a normal adventure."
But before he could say anything else—
A knock echoed through the stone chamber.
A firm, controlled rhythm.
The kind that didn't ask permission—only announced itself.
Everyone stirred slightly.
Jake opened one eye. Sally rubbed her temple. Finn buried his face deeper into his pillow.
The door creaked open.
A servant stepped in, dressed in fine robes of deep blue and gold, hands folded neatly in front of them.
Their voice was polite. Crisp. Unwavering.
SERVANT (formally)
"Honored guests, the Governor requests your presence for breakfast."
Silence.
Then—Finn groaned.
Rolling over, he blinked blearily at the servant.
FINN (groggy, half-awake)
"Uh… is it free?"
Aurora, still lying down, let out a quiet chuckle.
Sally sighed, rubbing her temple.
The servant did not react.
Jake sat up, stretching stiffly, eyeing the servant with a wary expression.
JAKE (skeptical, low)
"And if we say no?"
The servant did not hesitate.
SERVANT (calm, composed)
"Then you will remain here."
"Until further notice."
The air shifted slightly.
Sally narrowed her eyes.
King, still watching quietly from the window, folded his arms.
John, carefully, studied the servant's expression.
No threat. No aggression.
Just… a fact.
Finn sat up fully, clapping his hands once.
FINN (cheerful, decisive)
"Alright then! Breakfast it is."
Aurora smirked, shaking her head.
Jake stretched his arms, standing.
Sally shot John a glance, waiting for his say.
After a moment, he nodded.
JOHN (calm, firm)
"Let's go."
And just like that—the day began.
---
The group followed the servant down a long corridor, the polished stone beneath their feet cool even through their boots.
The air felt controlled here—not stiff, not hostile, but measured. As if every breath was accounted for.
Finn, however, seemed more concerned about something else.
He slowed his pace, tilting his head as he stared at the tall, dark stone walls that stretched endlessly in either direction.
Then—he sighed dramatically.
FINN (grumbling, unimpressed)
"Too many walls. Not enough trees."
Aurora, walking beside him, smirked.
AURORA (calm, amused)
"You say that like trees would survive here."
Finn threw his arms in the air.
FINN (mock despair)
"I dunno, maybe a window? A shrub? A potted plant? Something?"
Jake, walking ahead, scoffed.
JAKE (grumbling, deadpan)
"Cry about it."
Finn clutched his chest.
FINN (mock pained)
"I will, jakey. I will."
Aurora patted his shoulder.
AURORA (calm, supportive)
"We'll get through this together."
John, meanwhile, wasn't paying attention to any of this.
His focus was elsewhere.
Up ahead, Harry walked a little apart from the group, his gaze flicking over every carved marking, every archway.
It was subtle, but John noticed it.
The way Harry wasn't just looking.
He was studying.
John slowed his pace, walking closer to him.
JOHN (low, casual)
"You see something?"
Harry didn't look at him.
HARRY (calm, neutral)
"More like I see everything."
He nodded slightly toward the stone carvings along the pillars.
Intricate swirls, twisting symbols, almost woven into the walls themselves.
HARRY (musing, thoughtful)
"These aren't just decorative are they?"
John followed his gaze.
The patterns weren't random.
They looked… almost like records.
Stories carved into stone.
But before John could ask more, Harry's gaze shifted.
This time—not to the walls.
To the guards.
They weren't standing in formation. They weren't patrolling.
They were placed.
Strategically.
Watching.
John felt it then.
This city wasn't just built from stone.
It was designed to watch.
Before he could think too much about it, a flicker of movement caught his eye.
He turned his head sharply.
And for a split second—he saw him.
There—among the workers moving through the lower levels—he sees a familiar figure.
A dark-haired boy, moving swiftly through the crowd.
---
Vey.
Standing in the crowd below.
Draped in his usual loose, mismatched clothing, hands tucked into his sleeves.
His expression unreadable.
His gaze locked onto John.
John's breath hitched.
JOHN (sharp, instinctive)
"Vey—"
Then—he was gone.
Just like that.
John's heartbeat quickened as he stepped closer to the balcony, scanning the crowd.
Nothing.
Just the shifting sea of workers, merchants, and guards.
Finn, noticing John's sudden movement, frowned.
FINN (confused, glancing around)
"What? What happened?"
John didn't answer.
Aurora had caught on too, following his gaze.
AURORA (calm, curious)
"…Saw something john?"
John's grip tightened against the balcony railing.
Then, slowly, he let out a breath.
JOHN (low, steady)
"No. Nothing."
He turned back toward the group, but the thought lingered.
Vey had been here.
And then—he wasn't.
---
The grand chamber was bathed in morning light, filtering in through arched windows that stretched toward the high ceiling.
Long stone columns framed the hall, their surfaces carved with the same intricate symbols they had seen throughout the estate.
But it wasn't the architecture that caught their attention.
It was the table.
A vast, polished slab of deep obsidian, set with gleaming silverware and plates piled high with exotic fruits, golden-baked breads, steaming meats, and shimmering blue liquids poured into delicate goblets.
John didn't miss the contrast.
Outside—workers toiled under watchful eyes.
Here—everything was effortless, abundant.
At the far end of the table, the Governor stood, waiting.
The same golden robes. The same smooth, composed expression.
As they entered, he smiled.
GOVERNOR (warm, welcoming)
"Ah. You have arrived."
Finn, already eyeing the food, nudged Aurora.
FINN (murmuring, impressed)
"…I take back everything I said about the walls."
AURORA (dry, teasing)
"See? Bribery works."
The Governor gestured smoothly toward the table.
GOVERNOR (gracious, inviting)
"Please. Eat. Drink. You are honored guests."
John exchanged a glance with Sally and King.
Then—he stepped forward.
JOHN (calm, steady)
"We appreciate your generosity."
The Governor chuckled.
GOVERNOR (amused, smooth)
"Generosity is a virtue. And one I take great pride in."
His gaze swept over them.
GOVERNOR (pleased, gracious)
"Sit. Enjoy."
And so—they did.
---
The table was alive with color and scent.
The steam from golden-baked loaves curled into the air. The vibrant fruits—deep reds, shimmering blues—were sliced neatly beside pools of thick honey. Meats roasted to perfection glistened under the soft morning light.
And the goblets.
Filled with something… strange.
It was clear. Almost.
But every time the light hit it, it shimmered—not like water, not like wine, but something in between.
Sally, who had been picking at a piece of fruit, finally leaned back.
Then, casually—she nudged her goblet with a finger.
SALLY (dry, amused)
"…So, this sparkles."
The Governor, seated at the head of the table, chuckled softly.
GOVERNOR (smooth, pleasant)
"As all fine things should."
Finn, who had already taken a sip, blinked.
Then—he squinted at his cup.
FINN (murmuring, confused)
"…I don't even taste anything."
Aurora smirked, lifting her goblet and swirling the liquid.
AURORA (calm, teasing)
"Maybe that's the trick."
Jake, across from her, frowned at his own drink.
JAKE (skeptical, blunt)
"If this turns me into a frog, I'm killing all of you first."
Sally exhaled, shaking her head.
Then, turning back to the Governor—she quirked an eyebrow.
SALLY (mock serious)
"I should be worried, right? This isn't some… magic effect? A slow spell to make us 'proper guests'?"
The Governor smiled.
GOVERNOR (amused, calm)
"Ah. A sharp mind."
His fingers tapped lightly against the table.
Then, smoothly—he lifted his own goblet.
GOVERNOR (gracious, casual)
"Would I serve my guests something I would not drink myself?"
And with that—he took a sip.
A slow, deliberate motion. Effortless.
Finn, watching carefully, gave a nod of approval.
FINN (grinning, shrugging)
"Well. That's good enough for me. And besides, no rock soup this time."
Sally exhaled, she actually liked the rock soup.
---
The tension—if there had been any—eased slightly.
Until—Harry spoke.
Calm. Even. Straight to the point.
HARRY (neutral, thoughtful)
"What exactly is this place, anyway?"
The table stilled.
The Governor, ever composed, set down his goblet.
Then, with the smoothness of a man who had answered this question many times before—he spoke.
GOVERNOR (warm, confident)
"This is Vash'Kael."
His hands spread slightly.
GOVERNOR (proud, measured)
"A beacon of strength and order."
A pause.
Then—he smiled.
GOVERNOR (gracious, inviting)
"And perhaps… a new home for you, if you so wish it."
---
The words hung in the air.
John didn't move. Didn't react. Just let them settle.
Across the table, Sally tilted her head, her fingers lightly tracing the rim of her goblet.
SALLY (calm, neutral)
"Hm."
The Governor turned to her, amused.
GOVERNOR (pleasant, smooth)
"Something troubles you?"
She let out a slow breath, feigning thoughtfulness.
Then—she smiled, but there was an edge to it.
SALLY (casual, light)
"You said 'strength' and 'order.'"
Her eyes flickered toward him.
SALLY (pointed, curious)
"But not 'freedom.'"
It wasn't tense. Not yet.
Only a shift.
A shift the Governor noticed.
His smile remained.
GOVERNOR (calm, unwavering)
"Freedom is a luxury."
He said it so easily.
Like a simple truth.
Finn blinked.
FINN (muttering, under his breath)
"…That's not ominous at all."
Aurora nudged him under the table.
John, meanwhile, studied the Governor's expression.
He was still warm. Still welcoming.
But there was something else.
Something colder.
King, who had been quiet so far, finally leaned forward, resting his arms on the table.
His tone was measured, thoughtful.
KING (neutral, steady)
"And the people outside? The ones working in the streets, hauling stone—"
His gaze didn't waver.
KING (calm, pointed)
"Do they consider it a luxury?"
The Governor didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he studied King for a moment.
Then—he smiled.
GOVERNOR (gracious, intrigued)
"You are perceptive."
A pause.
Then, effortlessly—he lifted his goblet, taking a slow sip.
GOVERNOR (smooth, composed)
"As I would expect from your kind."
His words were meant as flattery.
But John knew what they really were.
A test.
---
The Governor's goblet settled against the table with a soft, deliberate clink.
Then—his gaze shifted.
To John.
GOVERNOR (calm, measured)
"And what about you, john?"
John's fingers, resting lightly against his plate, didn't move.
He met the Governor's gaze.
JOHN (neutral, steady)
"What about me?"
The Governor tilted his head slightly.
GOVERNOR (curious, intrigued)
"You have listened. You have observed."
A pause.
Then—smoothly, effortlessly:
GOVERNOR (gracious, warm)
"What do you think of my city?"
The table quieted.
Not uncomfortably.
Not tensely.
Just… waiting.
John let the question settle.
He could feel the others watching—some openly, some subtly.
Sally's gaze was sharp, expectant.
King sat still, unreadable.
Jake didn't move, but his fingers tapped lightly against his knee.
Finn had stopped eating.
Aurora was studying him, half-lidded, thoughtful.
Harry—as usual—was unreadable.
John finally exhaled.
Then, carefully—he answered.
JOHN (calm, thoughtful)
"It runs well. That much is clear."
He added:
JOHN (even, steady)
"But not everyone is happy."
A beat of silence.
The Governor's lips curled into a small smile.
GOVERNOR (amused, approving)
"You are honest."
Then—his smile grew.
GOVERNOR (smooth, thoughtful)
"But careful."
The Governor leaned back slightly, fingers tapping against the rim of his goblet.
Then, with the air of a man making a grand and effortless gesture:
GOVERNOR (gracious, inviting)
"Then, young ones."
His gaze swept over them.
GOVERNOR (calm, assured)
"I grant you freedom to explore. Form your own opinions."
The words felt light.
But they carried weight.
---
The Governor's words had barely settled before he spoke again.
GOVERNOR (smooth, measured)
"But remember, young ones."
His goblet tilted slightly in his fingers.
GOVERNOR (calm, assured)
"This city sees everything."
A pause.
Sally's fingers curled against her lap.
Jake's expression remained unreadable, but his posture shifted.
Finn, for once, was thinking.
Aurora exhaled slowly through her nose, eyes flicking to John.
John, however, didn't react.
Didn't flinch.
Didn't tense.
He simply held the Governor's gaze.
And nodded.
JOHN (calm, steady)
"Good to know."
The Governor's smile never wavered.
But there was something in his eyes.
He set his goblet down, rising gracefully from his seat.
GOVERNOR (gracious, concluding)
"Then, with that, let this meal be the beginning of your stay."
---
The walk back to their quarters was a strange mix of quiet thought and casual conversation.
For all the weight of the Governor's words, the mood wasn't heavy.
Just… odd.
Finally, Finn stretched his arms, letting out a long sigh.
FINN (grinning, amused)
"Well. I, for one, am honored to receive such a generous invitation."
AURORA (dry, teasing)
"Yeah, real special. Imagine getting permission to do something we were gonna do anyway."
FINN (mock dramatic)
"Right? It really takes the thrill out of it."
Jake scoffed.
JAKE (grumbling, unimpressed)
"He's just keeping us close."
Sally nodded, crossing her arms.
SALLY (flat, unconvinced)
"He wants to see what we do with that 'freedom.'"
HARRY (calm, musing)
"Or maybe… he just wants to see if we're the kind of people who ask permission in the first place."
A pause.
The group exchanged glances.
Then—Finn pointed at him.
FINN (grinning, impressed)
"…Okay. Now that was deep."
Harry shrugged.
HARRY (neutral, unreadable)
"Not really."
Jake sighed.
JAKE (grumbling, muttering to himself)
"Great. Now we're playing mind games."
John, walking slightly ahead, exhaled through his nose.
JOHN (calm, but focused)
"Doesn't matter. We play along. See what we find."
Sally nodded.
SALLY (firm, agreeing)
"And if we don't like what we find?"
John didn't answer immediately.
Then—quietly, steadily:
JOHN (low, certain)
"Then we figure out what to do next."
With that—their plan was set.
---
The large wooden doors to their chambers creaked open, revealing the familiar lavish room.
Soft beds, warm candlelight, polished stone floors—far too comfortable for what lay beyond these walls.
Finn immediately flopped onto the nearest couch.
FINN (grinning, stretching out)
"Alright. Let's divide and conquer."
Jake, still standing, grunted.
JAKE (grumbling, skeptical)
"We're splitting up now?"
King, who had moved to lean against the windowsill, nodded.
KING (calm, practical)
"We cover more ground that way."
Sally folded her arms.
SALLY (firm, steady)
"We'll stick to pairs. No one goes anywhere alone."
Harry, already making his way to the fireplace (because of course he was), spoke up without looking at them.
HARRY (calm, casual)
"Except me."
Sally sighed.
SALLY (tired, rubbing her temples)
"Except harry."
Finn pumped a fist into the air.
FINN (cheerful, smirking at Aurora)
"That means we get the fun job."
Aurora raised an eyebrow.
AURORA (calm, amused)
"Which is?"
John finally turned from the door, his tone even, decisive.
JOHN (firm, assigning roles)
"Finn and Aurora—go to the market. Look at how people live. What they buy. See the common life."
Aurora nodded. Finn grinned.
JOHN (continuing)
"Sally, Jake, and King—you focus on the workers. Talk to them if you can. See what you notice."
Sally exchanged a glance with King, then Jake. They all nodded.
JOHN (glancing toward Harry)
"Harry. You wanted the archives, right?"
Harry finally turned away from the fireplace, his usual unreadable expression in place.
HARRY (calm, simple)
"There's always something worth reading."
John exhaled.
Then—he crossed his arms.
JOHN (even, steady)
"I'll stay here."
The group paused.
Finn raised an eyebrow.
FINN (confused, casual)
"Uh… you sure? The Governor is kind of…"
He made a vague, swirling hand gesture.
FINN (grinning, finishing the thought)
"…A lot."
John smirked slightly.
JOHN (calm, assured)
"All the more reason to talk to him."
A pause.
Then, Aurora pushed off the couch, stretching slightly.
AURORA (calm, smirking)
"Well. This should be fun."
Sally sighed.
SALLY (deadpan, unimpressed)
"That's one word for it."
Finn clapped his hands together.
FINN (cheerful, teasing)
"Alright, people. Let's go bother some citizens."
Jake muttered something about jumping off the balcony.
King, ever composed, nodded toward John.
KING (calm, trusting)
"We'll regroup when we know more."
John returned the nod.
And with that—the group stepped forward.
Splitting apart.
Each heading toward a different part of the city.
Each about to uncover something new.
And harry,
He just wanted to read things in peace.
---
The streets stretched ahead, winding through massive stone archways and past tall, sculpted buildings.
Despite the imposing size of the city, this part of town felt quieter.
Not empty—just different.
The three walked at a steady pace, their footsteps echoing softly against the stone.
For now, at least, there was no rush.
And Jake was already bored.
---
(The Usual Jake Complaints, Featuring King and Sally)
JAKE (grumbling, hands behind his head)
"Okay, but seriously—what kind of city is this? No trees. No rivers. Just stone, stone, and oh—what's that? More stone."
King glanced at him, unimpressed.
KING (calm, deadpan)
"You say that like you've ever cared about trees."
Jake scoffed.
JAKE (mock offended)
"I care about trees."
Sally smirked.
SALLY (teasing, raising an eyebrow)
"Since when?"
He paused.
Then, after a beat—he shrugged.
JAKE (grinning, carefree)
"Since right now."
King rubbed his temple.
KING (grumbling, shaking his head)
"Of course."
Jake, pleased with himself, turned back to the streets ahead.
Then—he frowned.
JAKE (grumbling again, kicking a pebble ahead of him)
"Okay, but seriously. This place is too… clean."
Sally glanced around.
The streets were clean.
Perfectly smooth stone. No dirt. No stray leaves. Not even a piece of discarded cloth or food.
It didn't look natural.
It looked… maintained.
SALLY (murmuring, thoughtful)
"Yeah. Guess it is."
Jake huffed, shoving his hands into his pockets.
JAKE (grumbling, kicking the pebble again)
"Freaks me out."
King, walking beside him, sighed.
KING (flat, unimpressed)
"Jake. You're freaked out by a clean floor?"
Jake turned sharply to him, pointing.
JAKE (firm, serious)
"Yes."
King blinked.
Sally laughed.
---
Despite the banter, Sally was still watching around her.
And she wasn't the only one.
King's eyes moved carefully over the towering structures, noting the placement of guards, the lack of crowds, the way the city seemed designed to control movement.
Jake, meanwhile, was more focused on the people they did see.
And what stood out most?
Nobody was hanging around.
No one was sitting on doorsteps.
No one was resting against walls, chatting.
No one was loitering.
Every person they passed was either walking with purpose or working.
It was quiet efficiency.
And for some reason—that annoyed Jake more than anything.
JAKE (muttering, frustrated)
"Nobody here just… exists, huh?"
Sally glanced at him.
She could tell—he wasn't joking this time.
SALLY (calm, observing the people around them)
"Guess not."
King remained silent.
Because he had noticed the same thing.
And now, as they approached the district where the real labor happened, that feeling?
Only got stronger.
---
(The Work District)
Ahead, the air was denser, heavier.
Not with noise.
Not with chaos.
But with a quiet, constant rhythm.
The sound of stone being cut. Carts being pushed.
A place where people worked.
And nothing more.
Jake, King, and Sally stepped forward—entering a part of the city that felt different from the rest.
The air felt different here.
Not with heat or smoke—but with something unseen.
Jake, King, and Sally stepped into the district where the city's real work was done.
The change was immediate.
Gone were the decorated streets and open courtyards.
Now—everything was function.
Wide roads, meant for hauling.
Shops stripped of color, their signs purely practical.
Buildings stacked close together, the walkways narrower, more controlled.
And the workers.
Hundreds of them.
Not in chaos. Not in disarray.
But in perfect, synchronized motion.
Carrying. Lifting. Chiseling. Hauling.
All without speaking.
All without slowing.
All without stopping.
Jake's brows furrowed.
At the people.
Every worker they passed moved with precise, calculated steps.
No one lingered. No one paused to take a breath.
No one even looked up.
Jake nudged Sally.
JAKE (low, grumbling)
"Alright. You seeing this?"
Sally, arms crossed, exhaled.
Yeah—she saw it too.
But she noticed something else, too.
There was no sound.
No casual conversation.
No muttered complaints.
Just work.
The scrape of stone. The dull thud of crates.
But no human voices.
It was… wrong.
Sally's fingers tightened against her sleeve.
King, meanwhile, wasn't watching the workers.
He was watching the guards.
Placed at precise intervals.
Watching.
Always watching.
They weren't shouting orders.
They weren't cracking whips.
They were just there.
Standing at key points, their expressions completely unreadable.
---
King's jaw tensed slightly.
This wasn't control through fear.
It was control through something.. else.
Something deeper. Something more absolute.
And the more they walked, the clearer it became.
They've walked into, not just a labor district.
But a machine.
And the people here?
They were just the gears making it move.
---
The rhythm of the district was perfect.
Every lift. Every movement.
It was precise. Mechanical. Unbroken.
Until it wasn't.
---
A worker—a broad-shouldered orc, older than the others—was hauling a crate across the main walkway.
He moved with the same steady rhythm as the rest.
Step. Haul. Step. Haul.
A rhythm maintained in unison.
Then while moving—his foot caught on uneven stone.
As the weight shifted. His knee buckled.
And in a sharp, sudden motion—he fell to the ground.
The crate hit the ground with a loud, splintering crack.
Contents **spilled out—**smooth, polished stones rolling across the street.
---
(The Moment Freezes—And it Feels.. Wrong)
Jake, King, and Sally halted.
Not because someone had fallen.
But because of what didn't happen next.
No one moved to help.
No one reacted.
No one even looked.
The workers kept moving as if nothing had happened.
They stepped around the fallen stones without hesitation, without breaking stride.
It was like the orc wasn't there.
Like the fall hadn't even happened.
Sally's breath hitched.
King's jaw tightened.
Jake' looked equal parts shocked as he looked angry.
Because everything about this was wrong.
The trio grew suspicious, but more so they felt afraid.
---
For a moment, the orc didn't move.
Just kneeling there, breath slow, eyes locked on the ground.
The crate lay in pieces beside him, its contents scattered across the stone.
Workers stepped around him, over him, past him.
None of them slowed. None of them looked.
Then— he moved.
JAKE (firm, stepping forward)
"Hey. You alright?"
The orc's head jerked up.
Not in relief. Not in gratitude.
In alarm.
---
Jake crouched down, already reaching for the spilled stones.
JAKE (grumbling, shaking his head)
"Here, lemme—"
A strong, rough hand caught his wrist.
Jake froze.
The orc gripped him tightly, eyes wide with something unexpected.
Not anger.
Not frustration.
Fear.
ORC (low, urgent, shaking his head)
"Don't."
Jake stared.
King and Sally, still standing, exchanged a glance.
SALLY (soft, cautious)
"We're just trying to help."
The orc released Jake's wrist.
Then—shakily, carefully—he reached for the stones himself.
Like it had to be him.
Like if anyone else did it, there would be consequences.
Jake watched him, jaw tight.
Then—a shadow moved.
A slow, deliberate set of footsteps.
Someone else had finally reacted.
But not a worker.
A guard.
The footsteps stopped.
A figure loomed just outside their circle, standing with the stillness of someone who had already assessed everything.
The guard.
His armor was a smooth black metal, polished but not ornamental.
His face—**mostly hidden beneath a visor—**gave away nothing.
But his **stance, his presence, his timing—**all of it said enough.
He hadn't come for the orc.
He had come for them.
Jake, still kneeling, glanced up.
For a moment, no one said anything.
Then—the guard spoke.
His voice was calm. Measured.
GUARD (low, unreadable)
"Is there a problem?"
He said not to the orc.
To them.
Sally, arms still folded, kept her voice even.
SALLY (calm, but pointed)
"He tripped. We were just helping."
The guard's helmet tilted slightly.
Then—he shifted his weight.
GUARD (slow, deliberate)
"He is a worker."
JAKE (grumbling, standing up slightly)
"Yeah. We noticed."
King subtly stepped between them.
Jake exhaled sharply, but didn't push forward.
The orc, still on the ground, lowered his gaze.
Like he wasn't part of this anymore.
The guard didn't move.
Didn't reach for a weapon.
Didn't threaten.
But his silence carried the weight of something unspoken.
---
(A Message Without Words)
For a long moment, nothing happened.
Then—slowly, methodically—the guard turned his head.
Looking at the other workers.
At the ones who hadn't stopped moving.
At the ones who had stepped over, stepped around, kept going.
Afterwards—he looked back at Jake, King, and Sally.
And for the first time, the message was clear.
They weren't supposed to be part of this.
This wasn't their place.
This wasn't their home.
And if they were smart—
They'd act like they understood that.
For a moment—nobody moved.
The air between them stretched thin.
Jake, jaw tight, held the guard's stare.
He could feel King standing just slightly in front of him.
A barrier. A silent reminder.
Sally, arms still crossed, wasn't looking at the guard anymore.
She was watching the orc.
Because something about him felt off.
Not just the way he lowered his gaze.
Not just the way he refused their help.
But because of the way he was holding his breath.
Like he was waiting.
Like he was scared of what came next.
---
JAKE (grumbling, stepping forward)
"So that's it? He just falls and nobody—"
King's hand pressed against his chest.
A small movement.
But enough.
Jake stopped.
And when he looked up, King wasn't staring at the guard.
He was staring at him.
KING (low, firm)
"Not here."
Jake's fingers twitched.
Because he wasn't saying don't.
He was saying not now, not here.
Jake exhaled sharply, stepping back.
The guard didn't react.
Didn't move.
Just stood there, waiting.
Like he had already expected this outcome.
---
And then—the orc spoke.
Barely a whisper.
Not meant to be heard.
But Sally heard them anyway.
ORC (low, quiet, resigned)
"Shouldn't have stopped."
Her stomach dropped.
Not because of what he said.
But because of how he said it.
The orc lowered his head again, picking up the last of the fallen stones.
Jake, King, and Sally watched him.
And then, slowly, they stepped away.
Because there was nothing else they could do.
Not right now.
Not here.
But the feeling wouldn't leave them.
And as they walked away, the guard remained still.
Watching them.
Until they were gone.
---
The encounter was over.
But the lesson lingered.
Sally's eyes stayed fixed on the workers.
Even after they stepped away.
Even after the guard shifted his stance, returning to his silent watch.
The rhythm had never stopped.
The old orc was back in place, lifting, hauling, moving.
Acting like nothing ever happened.
Sally's fingers tightened against her sleeve.
---
The market stretched before finn and aurora—a winding, bustling maze of stone-paved streets and colorful stalls, tucked between towering buildings.
Despite the city's imposing presence, this place felt... different.
Less controlled. Less measured.
Here, the air was filled with movement, chatter, and the mingling scents of roasted meats, fresh herbs, and something sweet and spiced.
Finn took a deep breath, exhaling with a satisfied grin.
FINN (grinning, stretching his arms)
"Alright. This is more like it."
Aurora, walking beside him, tucked her hands behind her head, taking in the view.
AURORA (calm, amused)
"You were just complaining about the walls an hour ago."
Finn gestured dramatically.
FINN (mock serious)
"Yeah, but this? This is different."
His eyes flicked over every strange fruit, every sizzling skewer on an open flame.
Aurora just smirked.
Because she could tell.
He wasn't thinking about their mission.
Not really.
And—neither was she.
---
They moved slowly.
Not in the way of people on a mission, but like wanderers with time to waste.
They paused at a stall selling intricately carved wooden trinkets, shaped like small creatures with curling tails and delicate wings.
Finn picked one up, turning it over in his hands.
FINN (curious, impressed)
"Neat. What is this?"
The merchant—a short, broad-shouldered woman with gold-painted nails—grinned.
MERCHANT (warm, teasing)
"Ah, a man with fine taste! That, young traveler, is a Luck Spirit!"
Finn raised an eyebrow.
FINN (intrigued, amused)
"Oh yeah? What's it do?"
The merchant leaned in conspiratorially.
MERCHANT (lowering her voice, mock serious)
"That depends. You believe in luck?"
Finn tilted his head.
Then, he grinned.
FINN (smirking, handing it to Aurora)
"Well, I'd say mine's pretty good already."
Aurora, smirked and tossed the trinket back onto the stall.
AURORA (smiling, unimpressed)
"Smooth."
The merchant laughed, clapping her hands.
MERCHANT (amused, nodding approvingly)
"Oh, I like you two!"
Aurora turned, walking ahead.
Finn, falling into step beside her, grinned.
---
(The City Feels... Almost Normal)
For a while, they just walked.
Through narrow alleyways where vendors called out in a dozen different languages.
Past a spice seller fanning fragrant smoke into the air.
Near a musician playing a low, drifting melody on a stringed instrument.
No one stopped them.
No one watched them too closely.
For the first time since arriving in this city—they weren't being observed.
Which for them, was strangely nice.
Finn glanced around, his expression turning thoughtful.
FINN (musing, casual)
"You know… it's easy to forget we're supposed to be 'investigating.'"
Aurora snorted.
AURORA (dry, smirking)
"You mean we're not?"
Finn grinned.
FINN (mock serious)
"Depends. Does taste-testing every street snack count as 'gathering intel'?"
Aurora tapped her chin, pretending to consider.
AURORA (calm, teasing)
"Only if we write a detailed report."
Finn gasped, clutching his chest.
FINN (mock betrayed)
"Work? On my free time?"
AURORA (smirking, shrugging)
"Nah, you're right."
The city around them felt lighter.
For a little while, they weren't strangers in an unfamiliar world.
They were just… exploring.
---
The market was alive, breathing.
A merchant shouted praises of sizzling skewers, waving a hand over the open flame.
A group of children darted past, laughing as they wove through the crowd.
A fruit vendor sliced a deep-purple melon, its juices dripping onto golden parchment.
And through it all, Finn and Aurora strolled—unhurried, weightless.
They weren't looking for anything in particular.
Just… experiencing.
Aurora paused at a small stand, fingers brushing against a woven bracelet made of deep green thread.
Finn, standing beside her, glanced over.
FINN (curious, casual)
"You into jewelry now?"
Aurora rolled her eyes.
AURORA (calm, smirking)
"Into good craftsmanship, obviously."
The old woman behind the stand chuckled.
MERCHANT (warm, amused)
"A good eye, little one. This was woven with the threads of the midnight vines—stronger than they look!"
Aurora lifted a brow.
Finn, grinning, picked one up.
FINN (mock serious)
"Think it could hold up against Finn-proof levels of recklessness?"
The woman laughed.
MERCHANT (teasing)
"Only one way to find out!"
Finn smirked, looping the bracelet around his wrist.
Then, without hesitation—he turned to leave. Waving to her as he walked.
No exchange. No payment.
And the woman didn't stop him.
She just smiled and waved back.
Aurora, watching this, narrowed her eyes slightly.
---
(Wait… Shouldn't We Have Paid for That?)
The realization came slowly.
Not all at once—just in pieces.
The skewer Finn had grabbed earlier? No charge.
The cup of honeyed tea Aurora had taken from a vendor? No exchange.
The woven bracelet? Not a single question.
Aurora finally halted mid-step.
Finn, already two paces ahead, blinked and turned.
FINN (casual, confused)
"…What?"
Aurora's eyes scanned the market.
People were bartering, trading, exchanging gold-leafed tokens.
But not them.
She slowly turned back to Finn, lifting an eyebrow.
AURORA (calm, but pointed)
"We haven't paid for a single thing here, have we?"
Finn blinked.
Then—he frowned.
A pause.
Then, carefully—he turned, glancing back toward the old woman at the stand.
She was already greeting another customer, smiling as if nothing was strange.
Finn looked down at his bracelet.
Then back at Aurora.
FINN (slow, realization hitting)
"…Huh."
Aurora crossed her arms.
AURORA (deadpan, skeptical)
"We should go back. Shouldn't we?"
Finn rubbed the back of his neck.
FINN (rubbing his shoulder, sheepish)
"Well.. I mean—do you want me to?"
"I mean, we haven't even got a single penny to pay her. Or.. is this an 'I give you this, you give me that' kinda deal."
Aurora sighed, shaking her head.
AURORA (thoughtful, hands on hips)
"Beats me."
AURORA (muttering, sarcastic)
"Should've asked about this at the estate…"
Finn snapped his fingers.
FINN (mock regretful, nodding)
"Right? 'Hey, Governor, quick question—how does money work here?'"
Aurora smirked.
AURORA (calm, amused)
"Would've been better than becoming accidental thieves."
Finn thought about that for a second.
Then—he shrugged.
FINN (grinning, uncaring)
"Well, if they're not stopping us, I say we roll with it."
Aurora let out a short chuckle.
But at the back of her mind, the thought still lingered.
---
(The Real Question – Why?)
It wasn't just that they weren't paying.
It was that no one expected them to.
No hesitation. No questioning.
Like it was normal.
Like it was obvious.
Aurora exhaled, arms still crossed.
AURORA (low, thoughtful)
"You think it's because of the elf thing?"
Finn's smirk faded slightly.
Because that thought had just hit him just now.
The moment they stepped into the city, the moment they were given a lavish room, the moment the Governor greeted them with open arms—it had all been so… effortless.
And now?
The market treated them the same way.
Finn slowly glanced around.
For the first time, he noticed the stares.
Not hostile. Not suspicious.
But… watchful.
Like people were seeing something they didn't fully understand.
Aurora, standing beside him, noticed it too.
A breeze moved through the market.
And suddenly, the easy, carefree atmosphere felt just a little bit different.
---
The feeling crept in slowly.
A prickle at the edge of awareness.
Nothing obvious—just a sense.
Finn and Aurora kept walking, weaving through rows of colorful stalls, past steaming food carts, beneath banners that fluttered lazily in the warm air.
Everything was still the same.
People laughed, vendors shouted, the scent of roasted spices drifted between stone archways.
And yet—something was different.
Aurora didn't glance back.
Didn't turn her head.
But she knew.
Someone was behind them.
Trailing too close.
Keeping pace a little too well.
Finn felt it too.
But instead of tensing—he smirked.
FINN (mock serious, whispering to Aurora)
"Alright. We had a good run. But looks like we're wanted criminals now."
AURORA (deadpan, amused)
"So soon? Thought we'd at least make it a day."
Finn sighed dramatically, shaking his head.
FINN (mock regretful)
"It was the free bracelet. Should've known. Too good to be true."
Aurora chuckled under her breath.
Then—casually, without breaking stride—she glanced at her reflection in a polished metal vendor sign.
Just for a second.
And she saw him.
A small figure, hood drawn low, moving too smoothly through the crowd.
Too deliberate.
Her eyes flicked back to Finn.
AURORA (calm, low)
"Not a guard."
Finn raised an eyebrow.
FINN (murmuring, playful but intrigued)
"Oh? Who's after us, then? An angry vendor? An overenthusiastic fan?"
Then—it happened.
A light tug.
Barely noticeable—except Aurora had been waiting for it.
The hand brushed past her waist—aiming for the satchel looped over her shoulder.
Too slow.
Aurora snatched the wrist mid-motion, gripping it tight.
The figure yelped.
Finn blinked.
Then—grinned.
FINN (grinning, triumphant)
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
Aurora, eyes sharp, turned her head slightly—finally seeing who had been following them.
And the pickpocket—a small, sharp-eyed wisp of a creature—froze in place.
---
The pickpocket froze mid-motion, his small frame tense under Aurora's grip.
Wide, sharp eyes darted between them—weighing options, calculating chances.
Then—
PICKPOCKET (nervous but bold, hands raised)
"Alright, alright! No need for all that. Let's just—let's just take a breath here."
Aurora didn't let go.
AURORA (calm, unimpressed)
"You were just reaching for my bag."
The pickpocket gasped, offended.
PICKPOCKET (mock scandalized)
"What? Me? I'm a simple, law-abiding citizen."
Finn crossed his arms, grinning.
FINN (mock serious, shaking his head)
"You hate to see such false accusations."
The pickpocket pointed dramatically at Finn.
PICKPOCKET (nodding quickly)
"Exactly! This guy gets it!"
Aurora tightened her grip slightly.
AURORA (deadpan, flat)
"Try again."
The pickpocket winced.
Then— he sighed heavily, slumping his shoulders.
PICKPOCKET (grumbling, defeated)
"Okay, maybe I was."
Finn finally grinned, crossing his arms.
FINN (grinning, pleased)
"There we go."
Aurora finally let go, but her stare stayed sharp.
The pickpocket rubbed his wrist dramatically.
PICKPOCKET (muttering, rubbing wrist)
"Stars above, you've got a grip."
Aurora folded her arms.
AURORA (calm, unreadable)
"Try harder next time."
The pickpocket chuckled, shaking his head.
---
Then—his expression shifted.
The playful charm dimmed slightly.
He glanced around—checking the street, the crowd, the eyes in the distance.
Then, voice lower, tone more serious—he muttered.
PICKPOCKET (quiet, warning)
"Not everyone here likes elves."
---
A pause.
Finn's grin faded.
Aurora's arms, still folded, tightened.
The air around them—lighter prior—felt subtly heavier.
Finn and Aurora exchanged a glance.
Then, Finn turned back to the pickpocket, tilting his head.
FINN (calm, curious)
"And what exactly does that mean?"
The pickpocket hesitated.
Enough to know he had an answer.
But he wasn't sure if he wanted to give it.
His sharp eyes darted to the crowd again.
Then—he exhaled, shaking his head.
PICKPOCKET (muttering, glancing away)
"It's nothing."
Aurora didn't buy it.
AURORA (flat, unimpressed)
"You sure about that?"
The pickpocket grimaced.
And suddenly, he tensed.
---
Because somewhere in the distance—
A sharp, shrill whistle cut through the air.
His entire demeanor changed in an instant.
Gone was the smooth-talking thief.
Now—he was just someone who just wanted to disappear.
PICKPOCKET (quick, muttered)
"Look, just—watch where you walk, alright?"
he bolted.
Twisting, darting, slipping between the crowd like smoke through cracks.
Aurora made a move to follow.
Finn caught her arm.
She turned to him—a split second away from shaking him off.
But Finn was watching the crowd.
Not the pickpocket.
The crowd.
He had just realized—people were moving.
And not in a natural way.
A shift. A subtle, quiet shuffle.
Like some people had noticed that whistle, too.
Like some people knew exactly what it meant.
Aurora saw it now, too.
Her fingers twitched.
Then—slowly, she let it go.
The pickpocket was gone.
But the feeling he left behind wasn't.
---
The pickpocket was gone.
But his words—and the way he vanished at the sound of that whistle— lingered.
Finn exhaled, stuffing his hands into his pockets as he and Aurora resumed walking.
FINN (casual, but musing)
"Well. That was weird."
Aurora's gaze swept the market, but nothing looked different.
No guards storming in. No one pointing at them.
Just… normal.
AURORA (calm, unreadable)
"A little bit."
They walked on.
---
Finn slowed.
His eyes flicked to the side, landing on a stall unlike the others.
A crooked wooden sign hung above it, carved with twisting letters neither of them could read.
And the stall itself?
Covered in miniature trees.
Tiny potted saplings with deep emerald leaves.
Delicate branches curling toward the air.
Roots bound in soil that seemed too dark, too rich for this city of stone.
And behind them—A merchant.
A tall, wiry figure wrapped in deep green cloth, their long fingers idly tracing a vine draped over their shoulder.
Their face was mostly hidden beneath the shade of a wide-brimmed hat—but when they turned, their smile was visible.
Slow. Amused. Knowing.
Then—they sang.
---
MERCHANT (playful, melodic)
"Ohhh, little elves, so far from their trees!"
Finn blinked.
Aurora paused.
And the merchant's smile widened.
---
Finn rested an arm on the stall's wooden frame, grinning.
FINN (casual, friendly)
"Nice setup you've got here."
The merchant—still absently toying with the vine over their shoulder—tilted their head slightly.
TREE MERCHANT (smooth, amused)
"And here I thought the elves had no interest outside their trees."
Aurora eyed them carefully.
Finn, however, laughed.
FINN (grinning, playing along)
"Well, y'know, gotta check in on the locals. Make sure everything's up to code."
Aurora sighed dramatically, crossing her arms.
AURORA (mock serious, nodding)
"Mhm. Lotta suspicious activity in these parts."
The merchant's eyes gleamed with humor.
TREE MERCHANT (soft chuckle)
"Oh, indeed. The stone streets are full of whispers."
Finn leaned in slightly, lowering his voice.
FINN (grinning, conspiratorial)
"Any tree-related crimes we should know about?"
Aurora tapped her chin, pretending to consider.
AURORA (calm, mock stern)
"Illegal sapling smuggling? Leaf trafficking?"
The merchant let out a slow, quiet laugh.
Then—they leaned forward slightly, their voice light, but edged with something else.
TREE MERCHANT (playful, knowing)
"Oh, the only crime here is knowing more than you should."
A beat of silence.
Then—the merchant tilted their head, studying them.
Their fingers traced the curve of one of their small potted trees, voice dropping to something almost… thoughtful.
MERCHANT (calm, amused)
"But perhaps you two understand that already."
Finn, not one to let a mood linger too long, clapped his hands once.
FINN (grinning, smooth)
"Alright, alright. Enough mystery talk. What's actually for sale here?"
The merchant grinned.
And then—
they leaned in slightly.
---
MERCHANT (soft, knowing smile)
"A secret."
A pause.
Then—they lifted a finger, waggling it slightly.
MERCHANT (gently playful, amused)
"For a secret."
---
Finn exchanged a glance with Aurora.
Aurora raised an eyebrow.
Finn tilted his head slightly, considering.
This just got interesting.
.
.
.
---
The corridors were quieter here.
Not the same controlled silence of the worker district.
Not the casual hum of the market.
This was a different kind of quiet.
A stillness that pressed against the air.
Like the walls themselves were listening.
Harry walked at an easy pace, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning his surroundings.
With him, his escort.
A tall, stone-faced gentleman —who guided him to this part of the city. Where "The Grand Library" of Vash'Kael is located.
The governor had personally requested harry, to take the gentleman with him as a guide.
Even though, he insisted he could somehow get to it by himself. Something like,
"I wear these glasses for a reason you know."
--
At last, they reached a set of doors.
Not wooden. Not metal.
But stone—smooth, polished, carved with delicate symbols that faintly glowed.
The attendant moved to push them open but—paused.
Then, slowly, he turned to Harry.
ATTENDANT (calm, measured)
"The archives are restricted to select visitors. You are permitted to enter… but I request you to be mindful."
Harry tilted his head.
HARRY (calm, genuine)
"Mindful?"
The attendant didn't answer immediately.
Instead, his gaze lingered on the door.
Then, simply—he pushed it open.
A rush of cool, thick air swept out from within.
Harry took a step forward—then stopped.
For a brief second, he hesitated.
Then—he turned back.
And in a moment that didn't feel forced, that didn't feel like a habit—
He gave a small nod.
HARRY (soft, genuine)
"Thanks. I appreciate the help."
simple words.
Said with sincerity.
And it landed.
The attendant blinked—almost imperceptibly.
Like he weren't used to being thanked.
Like he hadn't expected it.
Harry didn't stay to see his reaction.
Didn't wait for a response.
He had already stepped inside.
And the doors, without anyone touching them—
Closed behind him.
---
(Inside the Archives – A Place That Breathes Secrets)
The room was massive.
Not like the grand halls of the governor's estate.
Not like the towering courtyards of the city.
This was different.
A vast, sprawling space lined with bookshelves that stretched high into shadow.
Scrolls drifted lazily through the air, caught in unseen currents.
Candles flickered without melting.
The ceiling, if there was one, was lost in a haze of soft, golden light.
And above it all—the quiet hum.
Not loud.
Not constant.
But there.
Like the sound of a page being turned—infinitely slow, endlessly deep.
---
Harry exhaled slowly.
There was no dust here.
No musty smell of old parchment.
Only the faint scent of ink and something… ancient.
His fingers twitched at his sides.
Because something about this place called to him.
Not in a loud way.
Not in a way that demanded attention.
But in a way that whispered silently.
A place where questions weren't just answered.
A place where questions led to more questions.
And, he liked that.
---
A soft, gliding sound echoed from deeper inside.
Harry's eyes flicked up—and there, emerging from the shadows,
the librarian.
They weren't just a figure of light.
They had form. Presence.
As they came closer he saw a woman—older, her spectral glow lined with soft wrinkles, her expression carrying the weight of countless years.
Her hair—**long, silver, flowing like mist—**moved gently with no wind.
Her robes, deep and layered, shifted like flowing ink, edges blurring as she stepped forward.
And her eyes—gentle, patient, knowing.
Like she had seen a thousand students stand where he stood now.
And when she spoke, her voice was warm.
Not eerie. Not booming.
Just calm. Assured.
Like a teacher who already knew the answers—
But wanted the student to find them on their own.
SPECTRAL LIBRARIAN (soft, welcoming)
"You seem troubled, young one."
Harry turned to face her, hands still in his pockets.
And with a small, casual smirk—
HARRY (calm, amused)
"Troubled? Not really. "
He tilted his head, glancing toward the vast shelves.
HARRY (thoughtful, with a small shrug)
"But curious? Always."
The librarian chuckled.
A sound that echoed gently, like a ripple through water.
SPECTRAL LIBRARIAN (amused, nodding)
"Then we are alike."
---
Harry wandered deeper into the archives.
There was no urgency.
No set path.
Just bookshelves stretching endlessly, scrolls tucked away in carved stone compartments, loose parchments laid out on heavy wooden desks.
The air here wasn't just thick with knowledge.
It was thick with secrets.
Harry's fingers brushed over a row of book spines, trailing along worn leather and faded lettering.
No dust. No neglect.
Everything here was maintained. Preserved.
Like nothing was ever meant to be lost. Or at least it seemed that way.
---
He pulled a book free at random.
Nothing special. Nothing that stood out.
Just an old tome, its cover worn but sturdy.
He opened it, turning pages absentmindedly.
Handwritten notes.
Diagrams of structures.
Strange symbols he didn't recognize.
Then, he found a map.
Just a single page, tucked in among records of old roads and city layouts.
And yet—something was off.
Because half of it was blank.
Not unfinished.
Not worn away.
Just… missing. Like someone or something had erased it from existence.
---
A soft hum filled the space.
Not from the room.
From behind him.
The Spectral Librarian, watching, her hands folded gently before her.
Her expression was calm. Knowing.
And when she spoke, it wasn't a question of curiosity.
It was a question of understanding.
SPECTRAL LIBRARIAN (gentle, but pointed)
"Is it incomplete…?"
Her soft, aged features tilted slightly.
SPECTRAL LIBRARIAN (quiet, smiling faintly)
"Or is it hidden?"
Harry's fingers hovered over the blank space.
His mind spun.
Because this wasn't worn. This wasn't erased.
This was deliberately concealed.
His lips curled slightly.
HARRY (soft, amused)
"You like making people work for answers, huh?"
The librarian chuckled.
SPECTRAL LIBRARIAN (calm, warm)
"The best questions… are the ones that lead to more questions."
Harry tapped his fingers against the book's spine.
He liked that. Cause more questions means more reading.
And harry doesn't mind.
---
The map sat still beneath his hands.
Yet—the air around it wasn't.
Something shifted.
Like the very space around him had changed.
Harry's fingers hovered over the blank half of the map.
Missing?
No. Hidden.
The thought barely settled in his mind
when—
The runes flickered.
A low, soft hum echoed through the room.
And from somewhere beyond the shelves—
A book slid free.
It fell, like it had been moved by a gust of wind.
Then it flopped on the ground beside harry and the librarian.
Harry glanced at the her.
She hadn't moved.
Hadn't reacted.
She only watched, her soft, wise gaze filled with quiet amusement.
SPECTRAL LIBRARIAN (gentle, knowing)
"Some things reveal themselves to those who ask the right questions."
Harry's lips curled slightly.
Because that?
That was a challenge.
He stepped forward.
And reached for the book.
---
(The City Watches, The Game Begins)
Across Vash'Kael, the city stirred.
Unknowingly, the group was moving the pieces.
Finn & Aurora stood before the Wooden Merchant.
His voice sang with riddles, his smile playful—but layered with meaning.
Sally, Jake, and King walked through the labor district.
Their presence was a disruption.
The guards had seen them.
The workers had felt them.
And Harry?
He was touching something hidden.
Something that had waited. Something that was waiting no longer.
And above it all—
In a chamber high above the city,
The Governor watched.
A man of power. A man who saw everything.
And as the day deepened, as the city hummed under its own weight—
He leaned back in his chair.
And smiled.
GOVERNOR (softly, to himself, amused)
"Fascinating children."
---
[TO BE CONTINUED IN EPISODE 7]