Kael didn't follow her immediately.
He stayed by the trough a moment longer, watching the surface of the water settle. Reflections warped, then smoothed out again. The settlement moved around him, people resuming their conversations once they decided he wasn't an immediate problem.
That was fine.
Attention that faded quickly was safer than attention that lingered.
He turned and moved through the settlement at an unhurried pace, passing between low buildings and stacked supplies. He kept his posture neutral, his breathing steady, the silence inside him folded down to something dormant.
A man sitting near a fire glanced up as Kael passed. "Gate trouble?" he asked, casual but probing.
Kael didn't slow. "Travel trouble," he replied.
Not a lie.
Not an answer either.
The man nodded and didn't press further.
That was how it worked.
Kael reached the edge of the settlement where the buildings grew older, stone replaced by reinforced wood, paths narrowing into uneven corridors. This part of the settlement felt different. Quieter. Less accidental.
Intentional.
He stopped near a door marked only by a faded symbol scratched into the wood. Not a crest. Not a warning.
A marker.
He knocked once.
Waited.
Nothing.
He turned as if to leave.
The door opened.
The woman from earlier stood there, expression unreadable. "You took your time."
Kael met her gaze. "I wanted to see who noticed."
"And?"
"Enough," he said.
She studied him for a second longer, then stepped aside. "Come in."
The room inside was dim but orderly. Shelves lined the walls, stacked with ledgers, sealed containers, and small devices Kael didn't recognize immediately. A single lantern burned low on the table.
She closed the door behind him.
"You didn't ask my name," she said.
Kael didn't respond right away. He took in the room, the exits, the way the floorboards creaked near the walls but not the center.
"Names are leverage," he said finally. "You didn't offer."
She smiled slightly. "Fair."
She leaned back against the table. "You came from a breach."
Kael shrugged. "People pass through worse every day."
Her eyes sharpened. "Most don't walk away like you did."
Kael met her gaze calmly. "You're assuming I walked away from it."
Silence stretched between them.
Then she laughed softly. "Good answer."
She straightened. "Here's what I know. Gates are accelerating. Not everywhere, but enough that patterns are forming. Anchors are failing earlier. Entities are adapting faster."
Kael listened without interrupting.
"And here's what I don't know," she continued. "Why someone like you is close enough to multiple incidents to leave a trace without being recorded."
Kael remained silent.
She watched him closely. "You don't deny it."
"I don't confirm it," Kael replied.
Another pause.
She nodded. "That's smarter."
She reached into a drawer and pulled out a thin slate, sliding it across the table. "If you're looking for something—answers, leverage, a way to stop being behind the curve—this is where you start."
Kael glanced at the slate but didn't touch it yet. "And the price?"
She met his eyes. "Nothing immediate."
He waited.
"Just don't disappear," she finished. "People notice that too."
Kael considered that, then took the slate.
"I don't make promises," he said.
"I know," she replied. "That's why I talked to you."
Kael turned toward the door.
As he left, the silence inside him stirred faintly—not in warning, not in threat.
Recognition.
He didn't like that.
But he accepted it.