The door shut with a soft finality as Navir walked in.
Tarefin positioned himself behind the window farthest from Tarven's entrance along the same wall, his tall frame angled to keep watch without drawing attention, the distance deliberate, chosen for both cover and control.
Tarefin's silver-black hair fell around his face, scar visible at his collar. "Say it once, and clean," he said.
Navir stood by the door facing Samaveh, shoulders pitched forward, veins standing out along his hands, with Tarefin stationed at the far end of his side. "I know they're lying."
"That's not what this is about," Samaveh said. She crossed her arms, healer's hands steady despite the tightness in her jaw.
"Knowing alone doesn't guarantee survival," Tarefin snapped, his voice firm rather than sharp.
Navir let out a soft, humorless laugh. He lifted his gaze, steady and direct. "What do I need to do?"
Samaveh stepped closer. Her fingers brushed Navir's wrist, warm, grounding. "You're bleeding into every truth at once."
"I can handle it." Navir replied
"That's what they all say," Tarefin cut in.
Navir met his gaze. "You don't trust me?"
"I trust your fire," Tarefin said softly. "But it's still young, not strong enough to consume what's ahead."
Silence pressed in.
Samaveh exhaled. "There are things you haven't known… yet."
Navir's voice dropped. "Then show me."
Samaveh spoke first, voice measured. "In Argathe, merit is a story they tell the poor so they won't question the gates."
Navir's brow furrowed. "You're saying effort means nothing?"
"It means less than blood," Tarefin murmured, leaning just enough behind the farthest window to stay half-hidden, his gaze focused.
"Prestige is inherited."
"And so is protection." Samaveh briefly cut in.
"You're either born within the walls, or you spend your life knocking on them." Tarefin's posture was taut but low, controlled, each subtle shift carrying the weight of quiet authority, alert yet unseen, commanding the space without drawing attention to himself.
Samaveh nodded. "The gifted in the lower districts are filtered out early."
Navir clenched his jaw. "And the elites call it fairness."
"They call it stability," Tarefin said. "A quiet way to decide who's allowed to matter."
Navir paced once, then stopped. "But some slip through. I've seen it."
Samaveh hesitated. "A few… yes," she said softly as she nodded.
Navir's fists clenched at his sides. "And when they slip through?"
Navir leaned slightly forward, "And when they slip through?" His eyes glimmered with a mix of curiosity and untested confidence.
Tarefin's gaze, precise and unreadable, settled on Navir. "They're underestimated, till it's far too late," he murmured, his body leaning just enough behind the far window to remain half-hidden.
Navir absorbed that in silence. His brows drew together, not in fear but in thought, confidence tempered by a dawning caution. "By who?" he asked, quietly, less a challenge than an attempt to understand the shape of the threat.
"Those the system deems unworthy,"
Tarefin said, voice level, deliberate.
"Time-readers, society's observational arbiters. Most come from the lower social class. They've mastered the darkest levels of Argathe psychology, trained to sense patterns in behavior and time, they notice subtle shifts in your potential. Some are born with that awareness. Others are taught to sharpen it."
He paused, letting the words settle.
"When someone from their own class begins to rise, they keep watch. To step in if the rise threatens balance. Their insight could be used to guide, to protect, but the system directs it downward instead."
"Why would they do that?" Navir asked, the harsh realization spiking his heart.
"Hmm…" Tarefin exhaled, voice low, "hatred fueled by envy."
His gaze remained fixed beyond the window.
"That is how the structure keeps standing."
Samaveh spoke evenly, the weight in her tone unmistakable. "They track your choices. Your actions. Any path that might lead upward is noted, studied, and cut short."
Tarefin finished for her, voice calm and final. "You get sabotaged," he said. "Or worse, you get…"
"Eliminated." Navir finished for him.
"You're finally catching on," Tarefin nodded slightly as he smirked.
Navir's lips parted, realization sharp. "Argathe… it devours its own."
Navir walked alone, footsteps steady against the stone path, the city breathing softly around him.
His thoughts echoed.
"If knowledge gets you punished…" he murmured under his breath, "…then ignorance is protection."
Lights passed. Shadows stretched.
"So what am I doing?"
"Learning… or volunteering?"
His jaw tightened as a patrol passed in the distance. "If I stop now, I stay small."
"If I keep going, I'm marked."
Navir slowed, heart heavy but clear.
"And if I'm already seen," he whispered to the night, "then maybe the sentence was passed the moment I understood."