The morning betrayed them by being ordinary.
Sunlight warmed the windows. The streets hummed with market chatter. Breakfast tasted like safety. For a few fragile minutes, it almost felt like hope might be allowed to stay.
Then the city changed its mind.
It began with noise. Confused shouting. Boots slamming stone. The sound of something heavy crashing far away. Then came the screaming—layered, spreading, pulling the city's heartbeat apart.
Seris was at the door instantly. "What's happening—?"
She didn't have to wait long to learn.
People were already running. Smoke curled into the air in places that had no business burning. Somewhere, bells rang too loudly and too long. Some guards vanished from critical posts. Others gathered suspiciously in places they never patrolled. The northern wards pulsed dangerously as if magic itself didn't know whose orders to follow.
This wasn't chaos.
It was planning.
"This is coordinated," Liora muttered, already bracing herself.
And then—
A knock.
Not loud. Not frantic. It didn't need to be. It carried authority.
Seris opened the door and froze.
Officials stood there. Polished uniforms. Still shoulders. Calm faces. Holding documentation like a blade wrapped in courtesy.
"Good morning," the lead one said warmly. "We require your compliance."
Aiden already hated the word.
"For what?"
"Protective custody," the official replied gently. "A security precaution. Threat containment. Nothing personal."
He spoke like this was helpful. Like this was kindness.
Seris stepped between them, jaw set. "You don't have authorization."
Papers lifted.
Stamps gleamed.
Signatures shone.
Authorization delivered.
"Force is unnecessary," he continued pleasantly, "unless you insist upon it."
Liora's hand tightened around her blade.
Ardent leaned lazily against the doorway, smiling in a way that was far, far too calm.
Then the city did something very efficient and cruel.
It attacked Seris.
Her own organization marched down the street with precision, surrounding her with the perfect choreography of people obeying orders without burdening themselves with ethics.
Her rank. Her badge. Her authority.
Worthless.
"Seris Vallen," the captain said with bureaucratic confidence, "you are hereby suspended pending inquiry into interference with city policy, unauthorized alliances with unstable magical entities, and potential treason."
The world tilted.
Not because someone screamed.
But because Seris didn't.
Her voice stayed calm. Too calm. "You can't be serious."
"We are," the captain replied, and that was the problem.
Aiden started forward.
Liora's arm shot out, iron-strong. "Don't. That's what they want."
He understood.
He still hated it.
Hands closed around Seris's arms. They didn't drag her. They escorted her, respectfully, like a dangerous idea being safely contained. The insult was almost worse that way.
"That isn't security," Seris said, finally letting anger burn through her voice. "That's control."
"That," the official replied gently, "is order."
Far away, the bells kept ringing.
Closer, distant explosions trembled through buildings.
And something else began pressing into Aiden's skull—wishes. Too many. Too intense. Fear and greed and hunger and desperate selfishness. The city was bleeding want.
Ardent laughed softly.
That sound froze the courtyard.
"Ah," he exhaled, delighted and furious all at once. "They chose boldness. How precious."
The officials didn't look at him.
The worst mistake of their day.
They believed paperwork protected them.
They believed structure justified them.
They believed this was just another controlled maneuver.
Somewhere else in the city, a noble raised a glass and smiled at smoke on the horizon.
"Phase two," they said calmly.
The order rippled out.
And the world finally stopped pretending it would be kind.