The east granary had been ransacked at dawn. Crates lay overturned, pale grain scattered across the earthen floor, the morning light catching the drifting dust. Fresh footprints streaked toward the eastern alley, hurried and uneven. Navir and Sorvan had been nearby, repairing the water channels while the sun was still low, their hands wet with mud. They had seen the real culprits, a group of youths, dart across the rooftops, their muffled laughter echoing as they vanished between houses. By the time the alarm was raised, the thieves were gone.Yet the blame fell squarely on Navir and Sorvan. Even though they had identified the fleeing youths moments before they disappeared, the Elders railroaded the innocent brothers instead: they used proximity to the crime scene and the absence of witnesses to confirm their claims became “unquestionable proof” of guilt. With Arisha away at the outer farms, no guardian stood between them and the council’s judgment.The charges were delivered quickly,

Navir counted the cracked tiles as he crossed the courtyard. Sorvan emerged from the doorway ahead, silver-black hair catching the light.“You’re late,” Sorvan said lightly. “Again.”“Working on some stuff on the local power grid, with Ardavan.” Navir replied. “Took longer than expected.”Sorvan’s smile, accompanied by a slight scoff. Though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Convenient.”Navir stopped. “Say what you mean.”Sorvan laughed, soft and neat. “I did.” He nudged a loose stone with his toe. “Funny how things break when you’re gone.”“Accidents happen,” Navir countered, though a twinge of unease crept along his spine.“Sure,” Sorvan agreed. “They always do.”A cart rolled past, wheels chipping the silence. Sorvan waved once, then added, almost offhand, “Mehrak showed you his new model, right?”Navir kept his expression even. “Yes. Why?”“Impressive,” Sorvan said. “Almost too impressive for someone who trips over stairs.”Navir stiffened, one brow lifting. “What’s that supposed to mea

The shop breathed with quiet industry.Arisha sat near the window, fabric stretched across her knees, needle flashing in small, practiced arcs. Sunlight spilled over bolts of cloth stacked along the walls, catching dust in slow, drifting spirals.“So the border should be doubled here,” the customer said, tapping the air above the fabric. Her voice was calm, confident, the tone of someone used to being listened to. “If not, it frays within a year.”Arisha nodded. “I’ve seen that happen. Once is enough.” She smiled faintly, fingers never slowing. “You have a good eye.”The woman’s smile lingered, then faltered. Her eyes drifted past Arisha, settling on the doorway with a quiet, sudden focus, as if she’d caught the edge of a thought she hadn’t meant to notice.Nothing else changed.The street outside murmured. Footsteps passed. A cart rattled by.Then Navir stepped in through the front of the shop, quiet as a held breath. He lingered near the doorway instead of crossing the room, shoulde

An eerie hiss rippled through the air, rising into a shriek that split the silence, the wasteland tore itself apart in response.Figures tore free from open space itself, wrong shapes born of neglect and brilliance turned feral, limbs twisting where joints were never meant to bend. Eyes burned too bright. Their movements stuttered, then rushed.“Spread, no, wait, ” Navir’s voice cracked. He lifted his hand, then hesitated. Too many angles. Too close.One lunged. Another skittered low.“Ardavan!” Navir shouted.“I see them,” Ardavan said, breath quick. His fingers twitched, searching for patterns that refused to settle. “Their movement, it isn't random.”A shriek sliced the air. Something slammed into the ground where Navir had stood a second earlier.“Left!” Navir snapped, then his voice caught. Pressure closed in, thoughts slipping over each other. “No, back, wait, ”The wasteland pressed in, feeding on the fracture.Ardavan grabbed Navir’s sleeve. “You’re slipping.”“I know,” Navi

Navir tried to shake the thought, but it clung to him, the man from the café, Tarefin, and that unsettling familiarity. The way he’d watched. The way his eyes had lingered, as if Navir were a problem already half-solved. The memory followed him down the street, tightening with every step.Then the ground seemed to tilt.Navir slowed, pressing a hand to his temple. “Not now,” he muttered.His pulse thundered, uneven, and the air around him grew thick, heavy, as though the world were holding its breath.The sky dimmed.Not suddenly, deliberately.Gray bled into crimson, the clouds parted to reveal a raw, violent red sky, tense and suffocating. The temperature spiked, slamming into him in suffocating waves. Navir looked up, breath snagging.Silhouettes drifted across the wasteland, humanoid forms barely tethered to the ground, their outlines flickering in the oppressive red sky. Heat licked their shapes, setting them ablaze as they moved without purpose, twisting and writhing. No screa