The morning after his fever broke, Insomnia felt strangely different to Sirius — too bright, too alive.
The air was crisp, the streets freshly washed from a night of light rain. The magitek lamps along the walkways still glowed faintly in daylight, threads of blue energy fading into the city's ever-humming veins. Beyond the barrier, the sky was a clean stretch of silver-blue.
Sirius stood on the balcony, his hands resting on the railing. The faint ache from yesterday's collapse lingered in his bones, but the fever had burned away the fog. His mind was clear again — painfully so.
Lyla's words echoed in him: The strongest flame burns slowest.
He smiled faintly, tightening the strap of his satchel. "Slow it is, then," he murmured — though in his heart, slowing down simply meant focusing smarter.
He slipped on his hood, left a quiet note for his parents, and disappeared into the city.
---
Insomnia was a labyrinth of brilliance — and Sirius had decided to know it better than anyone.
His path began at the lower districts, where the streets narrowed and the magitek glow dimmed. Here, the towers didn't gleam; they loomed. Pipes and conduits lined the walls, and the hum of the city's core thrummed beneath the soles of his boots.
He paused at an intersection, kneeling beside a vent that blew out warm, steady air. From here, he could see the outline of the main tramline arcing above the rooftops. The pattern of movement clicked into his mind like puzzle pieces.
He opened his notebook — a smaller one now, separate from the vow-bound pages of his childhood — and began sketching quick lines.
Route 1 – South Alley to Tram Maintenance Ladder.
Safe in daylight. Patrol every 3 hours.
He flipped to the next page, jotting coordinates and notes.
Shortcut behind Azure Market → connects to Service Duct 13-B → access to barrier relay sublevels.
Each corner, every drainpipe, every unused stairwell — he marked them all.
To anyone else, it was meaningless. To Sirius, it was a map of survival.
Because no one else in this world remembered how fragile it could be.
---
Hours passed unnoticed. He moved through crowds, down alleys, and across service bridges, blending in like another shadow in the sunlit maze. Occasionally, his gaze lingered on the barrier above — that shimmering dome that protected them all.
The hum felt stronger today, but beneath it, he could sense something else — an undertone, faint but irregular, like the Crystal's heartbeat missing a single beat every few minutes.
Most wouldn't notice.
But Sirius did.
He wrote again.
Barrier fluctuation recorded. 11:24 AM. Possibly normal — monitor.
He stood for a while, watching the way the light refracted along the edges of the dome. If the barrier ever failed — if daemons ever breached Insomnia — this city would fall faster than anyone could react.
That was why he needed the map.
Not for paranoia.
For preparation.
He moved again.
---
By noon, he had made it halfway to the Crownsguard district. The streets here were wide and lined with holo-billboards projecting upcoming events — the King's next address, the Citadel's annual demonstration, and recruitment drives.
Students from the military academy passed by in groups, laughing, carefree. A few noticed him — the white-haired boy who sometimes trained at the Citadel — but he paid them no mind.
He cut through a side street, stopping at a staircase leading down into an unused magitek maintenance tunnel. The air below shimmered faintly with energy.
Perfect.
He descended carefully.
Inside, the tunnel glowed with soft blue light. Crystal conduits lined the ceiling, carrying mana from the city's heart outward. The hum was steady, almost musical.
Sirius knelt and traced one conduit's faint pulse. The energy vibrated faintly under his touch, alive and patient.
He whispered, "You're the arteries of this place, aren't you?"
The faintest tremor answered — or maybe it was his imagination.
He smiled. "I'll keep you safe, too."
He marked the tunnel on his map. Magitek Maintenance Tunnel 04-A — barrier connection confirmed. Shelter viable.
As he wrote, he felt something deeper stir in his chest — the same instinct that had kept him alive through his second life. The certainty that someday, this map might save lives.
---
When he emerged from the tunnel, the afternoon light had shifted golden. Crowds thickened near the food stalls, the smell of fried rice and roasted skewers filling the air. He stopped at a small vendor, bought a cup of iced tea, and sat on a nearby bench.
For the first time all day, he let himself breathe.
He glanced at the people around him — citizens chatting, laughing, waving at trams overhead. None of them knew how close their peace balanced on a knife's edge.
He took another sip, his gaze flicking to a passing patrol. Crownsguard soldiers in polished armor, their magitek spears glinting. They looked invincible — symbols of the King's protection.
But Sirius knew the truth. Even the strongest wall could crumble.
He flipped to a new page and wrote in neat script:
Peace exists because someone plans for the moment it ends.
He underlined it once, hard.
---
The shadows had grown long by the time he returned home.
Dominic was still out on duty, but Lyla waited by the window, smiling when she saw him enter. "You're late," she said, though her tone was more amused than scolding.
"Got lost," he said lightly.
She raised an eyebrow. "You? Impossible."
He shrugged, setting down his satchel. "Maybe I wanted to."
She laughed softly. "You sound like your father. He used to wander when he couldn't sleep — said the city changed every night."
"Maybe it does." Sirius glanced out the window. "You just have to look close enough."
Lyla studied him a moment longer. "You're thinking too much again."
"Always," he said with a small grin.
"Then come eat before you overthink yourself into another fever."
He chuckled and followed her to the table.
---
When the city fell quiet, Sirius spread his map across the desk. The pages were covered in neat handwriting and hand-drawn paths that crisscrossed the city — streets, rooftops, tunnels, and hidden access routes.
He stared at it for a long time, the lamplight reflecting in his red eyes.
Then, carefully, he drew a circle around the Citadel — and another around his home. Between them, he sketched a line.
Primary route — fastest path for evacuation.
He sat back, exhaling. His fingers traced the ink lines slowly, like tracing veins of destiny.
If the future he remembered ever came — if the fall of Insomnia began — he'd be ready.
Even if no one else believed him.
He folded the map neatly, tucked it into a sealed folder, and wrote one final note across the cover:
"Shadow Paths — For When Light Fails."
He pressed his hand against the cover, closing his eyes.
Never without meaning.
Outside, the barrier pulsed faintly — a heartbeat in the dark.
And in a quiet room above the glowing city, a boy mapped the future no one else dared to see.