The vote was called at noon, when daylight made liars uncomfortable.
Rhen stood at the rim of the bowl, listening as the city's hum steadied into a single, attentive cadence. People filled the tiers—workers still smelling of stone dust and brine, wardens with eyes ringed red from sleepless watches, delegates clutching tablets etched with logs no one could deny.
Transparency had done its work.
Now it demanded payment.
Skelda struck the stone once with her knuckles. "State the motion."
A human scribe stepped forward, voice tight. "Proposal: emergency authorization for expedited response—temporary, limited—when overflow thresholds are breached beyond two cycles."
Nymera closed her eyes briefly. Rhen felt the bond tense—not with fear, but with calculation.
"This is speed dressed as restraint," Nymera said quietly.
Rhen nodded. "And restraint dressed as speed."
The scribe swallowed. "It's meant to protect lives."
Rhen met his gaze. "So is consent."
Murmurs rippled—some agreement, some frustration.
From the merfolk tier, a captain rose, scales dulled by long nights. "Every extra step costs time. Time costs breath."
Rhen didn't argue the truth of it. He argued the direction. "Shortcuts borrow from the future," he said. "And the future always collects."
Skelda gestured. "Debate."
It came hard and fast. Villages that had held because the valve existed. Others that had nearly broken because help arrived measured, not immediate. Names were spoken. Maps unfurled. Thresholds argued down to heartbeats.
Nymera listened more than she spoke.
When she did, it was surgical.
"Expedited response can exist," she said, "but not as authority. As permission. Opt-in, named, reversible—requested by those who will bear the cost."
A Moonbound elder scoffed. "You're handing vetoes to the frightened."
Nymera met his gaze. "I'm handing agency to the affected."
Rhen stepped forward. "And I'll add this: expedited actions trigger automatic review. If outcomes exceed harm thresholds, the rule sunsets. No extensions."
Silence.
That was the cut.
The elder hesitated. Others leaned forward.
Skelda exhaled. "Vote."
Names were called. Hands rose—uneven, honest.
The motion passed—with amendments.
Rhen felt the weight settle—not heavier, not lighter.
Sharper.
The consequence arrived that evening.
A messenger ran the bridge, breath tearing. "Southern ice-route—collapse imminent. Request expedited response."
Rhen's jaw tightened. He met Nymera's eyes.
"Opt-in?" she asked.
"Yes," the messenger said. "Signed."
Rhen nodded. "Trigger."
The city moved.
Prepared channels opened. Wardens surged. The valve adjusted—precise, measured. Rhen felt the speed burn through the system like a hot wire.
It worked.
The route held long enough to evacuate three caravans and a fishing camp.
Cheers rose—and died just as quickly.
Because the cost followed.
Hairline fractures bloomed along a tertiary channel—within tolerance, but visible. Logs ticked red. Fatigue spiked. The Deep Ones' pressure shifted—not angry, not curious.
Interested.
Nymera felt it and stiffened. "They noticed the speed."
Rhen nodded. "They always do."
The review convened at once.
Rhen did not preside.
He sat among the tiers while the city examined itself. The fractures. The saves. The near-misses. Voices shook; numbers didn't.
The conclusion landed clean.
Skelda read it aloud. "Expedited response saved lives. It also increased system strain beyond sustainable margins. The rule sunsets at dawn."
No appeals.
The city exhaled—relief braided with disappointment.
Later, alone on the bridge, Rhen watched the water flatten back into its patient rhythm. The new thing inside him—judgment—felt bruised.
Nymera joined him, cloak tight. "You did the right thing."
He didn't look at her. "I did the honest thing."
She smiled faintly. "They're usually cousins."
He huffed. "I hate how daylight makes this harder."
Nymera leaned her head against his shoulder. "Darkness makes it easier to lie."
Below them, the canals carried the city's aftertaste—work resuming, arguments cooling, trust stretching without snapping.
Far beneath the fjords, hunger recalculated. Speed had teeth. Consent had texture. Witness complicated both.
Rhen felt the path narrow—not toward failure, but toward clarity.
Leadership wasn't choosing between speed and consent.
It was choosing how much of each the future could afford.