They finished eating slowly—well, Eli ate slowly. Carlos inhaled the last of his food with the enthusiasm of a man who had just survived fifteen near-death experiences in a row and believed this meal would undo at least thirteen of them.The table hummed faintly under their plates, the faint vibrations making the stone feel warm, almost comforting. Eli set his empty bowl down, and for a moment the world around him felt… quieter. Like the city had taken a breath.Carlos let out a satisfied groan. “I swear that food rewired my soul. I think I’m ready to run a marathon. A really short one. With breaks.”Eli stood.Carlos blinked. “What are you doing?”“Going back,” Eli said, already turning toward the exit.“No,” Carlos said immediately. “Absolutely not. Sit. Digest. Reconsider your life choices.”Eli didn’t slow. There was still too much noise in his head—looping questions, closed files, the blank pages, the Meridian Circle symbol that felt like it had been carved into his bones since c

By the fourth day, Eli stopped pretending the city was going to surprise him.Aurelius still unfolded beautifully—corridors blooming open at the exact pace of his steps, chambers rearranging themselves into new geometries, entire sectors revealing functions he hadn’t seen before—but the pattern had settled into something unmistakable. Exploration without revelation. Access without permission.The city was generous with spectacle.It was stingy with truth.Eli stood on an elevated overlook carved into the inner shell of the underground expanse, one hand resting against the warm, translucent barrier that curved along the edge. Below him, light traffic spiraled along invisible routes, streams of illumination weaving in and out of one another like neurons firing in slow, deliberate motion. The hum was constant now—no longer intrusive. His mind filtered it out unless he forced himself to listen.Somewhere behind him, Carlos sat on a low ledge, half-distracted, tapping his fingers against a

Carlos was already dressed when Eli woke up.That alone was unsettling.Not just dressed— assembled. Hair neat. Shirt pressed. Jacket on. Shoes laced. The version of Carlos standing near the window looked like the man Eli had known for years: calm, efficient, already ten steps ahead of whatever problem was currently pretending not to exist.Morning light cut through the hotel room in clean, unapologetic angles. Zurich looked crisp outside, like a city that believed very strongly in schedules and accountability.Eli blinked, disoriented.For a split second, his brain supplied the wrong memory. Carlos chewing bread like it was a religious experience. Carlos narrating textures. Carlos joking about nutrition opinions and conceptual dirt.This Carlos did none of that.He was scrolling through a tablet, expression neutral, posture loose but alert. A mug of coffee sat untouched on the desk beside him, steam thinning.Eli pushed himself upright. His head felt heavy, like his thoughts had been

Eli didn’t touch her.Not at first.He stood there with his hands at his sides, fingers flexing once as if testing whether his body still answered to him. The urge to reach out—to confirm warmth, solidity, undeniable presence—sat sharp beneath his ribs. He resisted it with the same discipline he used to resist panic, impulse, hope.Hope was dangerous.He leaned closer instead, lowering himself into the chair beside the bed. The faint sound of her breathing filled the space between heartbeats. In. Out. Consistent. Alive.Thirty-six hours ago, Karim had said.Thirty-six hours where the world had continued turning without this truth. Thirty-six hours where Eli had still been in that underground city trying to figure out what it wanted from him.He let his gaze trace her face, cataloging differences with ruthless precision. The hollow at her cheekbones. The slight discoloration at her temple, almost hidden by her hair. An IV line threaded into her arm, tape secure, clinical and careful.S

Morning arrived gently.Not with alarms or urgent calls or the sharp intrusion of responsibility—but with light filtering through the tall windows, pale and unassuming, as though the day itself was testing the ground before making demands.Eli woke slowly.For a moment, he didn’t move. Just lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening to the quiet hum of the house. The night before had been long—roads without destinations, thoughts that had needed space more than answers. He’d returned late, parked in the driveway long after the city had surrendered to sleep, and collapsed into bed with a tiredness that felt earned rather than heavy.He reached for his phone out of habit.No missed emergency calls.No red alerts.No messages marked *urgent*.Instead—A notification banner slid across the screen.Voice note received.Sender: Aurelius Group — Executive ChannelEli frowned slightly.He sat up, back resting against the headboard, and tapped play.For a split second, there was silence.The