Drift did not sleep.
As night settled, the city dimmed rather than darkened. Lights didn't switch off; they softened. Sounds didn't vanish; they thinned, stretching like whispers between moments.
Eris sat on the edge of a rooftop, legs dangling over the side. Below him, the streets curved subtly, rerouting foot traffic without anyone noticing. A child ran down an alley and emerged somewhere else entirely, laughing like it was normal.
Kaelion stood nearby, arms folded, watching the skyline.
"You're thinking too loudly," Kaelion said.
Eris smirked faintly. "Didn't know that was a thing."
"It is when the world listens."
Eris's expression sobered. "Those people we brought… they'll be safe?"
"As safe as anyone who already fell through history can be," Kaelion replied. "Which is more than they had before."
Eris nodded, then looked out again. "Drift feels… fragile."
Kaelion shook his head. "It's resilient. Fragility would draw attention."
A sudden hush fell.
Not silence—
absence.
The distant hum of the city cut off mid-breath. Lights froze at half-glow. Even the reflected sky in the plaza's pool stuttered.
Eris stood instantly. "That's not normal."
Kaelion's hand went to his sword. "No. That's intrusion."
Across the rooftops, a shape unfolded from thin air.
Tall.
Angular.
Wrapped in layered plates of dark, reflective material that bent light around it.
Not a Watcher.
Something closer.
The entity's voice arrived before its presence fully settled.
"Drift City. Compliance anomaly detected."
Below them, people froze—not paralyzed, but ignored, as if the entity couldn't fully register them.
Kaelion cursed softly. "An Arbiter."
Eris felt the Watcher's Trace stir uneasily. "What does it do?"
"It enforces corrections," Kaelion said. "When observation isn't enough."
The Arbiter turned its faceless head toward Eris.
"Subject identified. Primary deviation source."
Eris clenched his jaw. "Of course."
The Arbiter raised one arm. Space bent around it, forming a lattice of pale geometry aimed directly at Eris.
Kaelion stepped in front of him.
"No," Kaelion said firmly. "You don't get him."
The Arbiter paused.
"Obstruction noted. Probability of resistance: insignificant."
Kaelion drew his blade fully this time. The air sang as it cleared the sheath.
"Then recalculate," he said.
Eris felt the pull again—the urge to push back, to refuse—but stronger now, heavier.
Below them, the city began to slip.
Streets blurred. Buildings doubled briefly, then snapped back.
The Arbiter took a step forward.
And Drift reacted.
The rooftops subtly shifted, angles changing just enough to break the lattice's alignment. The geometry shattered like glass.
The Arbiter recoiled.
"Environmental noncompliance—"
Eris didn't think.
He stepped forward and said one word.
"No."
Not shouted.
Not forced.
Just… final.
The Watcher's Trace flared, then dimmed—like something being muted.
The Arbiter froze.
"Command… unrecognized."
Kaelion stared.
The city hummed back to life.
Lights warmed. Sounds returned. The pool's reflection caught up with reality.
The Arbiter dissolved into fragments of bent light, collapsing inward until nothing remained.
Eris staggered, breath hitching.
Kaelion caught him.
"You just overrode an Arbiter," Kaelion said quietly. "Without attacking it."
Eris swallowed. "I didn't fight it. I just… didn't accept its authority."
Kaelion looked at him with something between pride and fear.
"That's worse for them than violence."
Far away, beyond Drift, something adjusted.
This time, with urgency.