We tried to move her.
That was the first mistake.
The moment Devansh reached for her shoulder, the air changed.
Not violently.
Decisively.
Pressure folded inward around us, like a soundless exhale. My ears rang. The city's hum cut out so sharply it felt like a physical blow.
For half a second, there was nothing.
No rhythm.
No response.
Just absence.
Then Meera cried out.
Not in pain.
In shock.
"It's closer," she said. "It moved when you touched me."
I stepped in front of her without thinking.
The heaviness surged.
Hard.
I focused the way I always did. On the city. On emotion. On the subtle shifts that told me where something belonged.
There was nothing.
I couldn't feel it.
Not its intention.
Not its distortion.
Not even the echo of it.
My chest tightened in panic.
I had never failed like this.
"I can't find it," I said.
The words tasted wrong.
Devansh's voice sharpened. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… there's a blind spot in me."
Silence spread fast and heavy.
Meera's breathing went shallow. "It's right there," she whispered. "It's right where you're standing."
A wave of cold swept through my arms.
I forced myself not to step back.
"If it's there," I said quietly, "then the city should feel it."
Devansh closed his eyes.
His expression changed.
Just slightly.
"It doesn't," he said.
Rehaan swore.
The realization crashed through me.
The thing hadn't only learned to bypass the city.
It had learned to bypass me.
Meera's grip tightened on my wrist. "Ira… it's doing something."
"What?" I asked.
Her voice trembled. "It's trying to… settle."
The air thickened.
The stone under my feet warmed faintly.
Somewhere to my left, the wall's rhythm faltered.
A shallow indentation appeared.
As if the city had leaned inward.
My heart slammed.
"It's teaching the city how to make room for it," I whispered.
Devansh's hand closed around my arm. "Step back."
I didn't.
Because suddenly I understood something terrifying.
This wasn't an intrusion anymore.
It was a collaboration.