The passage sloped downward.

  Selene's hand traced the wall as she descended, following the faint marks Eldric had carved into stone.

  The smell hit her first: wet rot and old mildew.

  She paused.

  Ahead, the passage narrowed. The wooden support beams were dark with moisture, their surfaces soft and crumbling. Water stains spread across the stone walls like bruises. The floor glistened where thin puddles had collected in shallow depressions.

  Not flooded. Just... decayed.

  She took a cautious step forward. Her boot squelched as the wood yielded beneath her weight, the planks spongy and unstable.

  This entire section is rotting.

  Then she heard it.

  Footsteps. Distant. Echoing from somewhere behind.

  Selene stopped mid-step, listening.

  The sound grew louder. Closer. Moving through the hidden network.

  She turned, moving back carefully. But the floor beneath her feet felt uncertain. Each step risked breaking through entirely.

  Footsteps quickened. Faster now. Urgent.

  She moved faster too, her pulse hammering.

  Then something else.

  A sound. Not quite a voice, not quite a hum. It vibrated through the stone itself, rising from somewhere deep behind her. A pitch so low it felt more than heard, like standing too close to a bell’s final toll.

  A shiver crawled up her spine.

  …CRA—CK.

  The sound split through the narrow space.

  She stood in silence.

  Beneath her feet, a hairline fracture spread across the stone, thin and dark, branching outward like black lightning.

  The rotten wood supporting this section had finally given way.

  She shifted her weight slowly.

  Another crack, louder this time.

  The footsteps stopped.

  The low sound continued, growing, deepening.

  Selene sprang forward, reaching for stable ground—

  The floor gave way.

  She fell.

  Darkness rushed past. Cold air. Old plaster crumbling. The stench of decay.

  That low sound followed her down—resonant, monstrous, fading only as she—

  CRASH.

  Impact drove the air from her lungs.

  Pain exploded across Aldric's back—a sharp, brittle agony, too deep, the shock radiating through joints stiff with age. She hit something hard, wood splintering, then the floor.

  Everything went white.

  For a moment, she couldn't breathe. Just lay there in a spreading cloud of dust and broken stone, feeling the terrifying fragility of the body she wore.

  Breathe.

  Air returned in a painful gasp.

  She blinked, coughed.

  Gray light filtered through settling dust. She was on her back, staring up at—

  A hole.

  A perfect Aldric-sized hole in a plaster ceiling, edges ragged with broken lath and old stone. Dust drifted down. And now—

  Drip.

  Drip.

  Water. Seeping through the hole. Pattering onto the floor beside her head.

  "Professor Aldric."

  The voice was dry. Measured. Utterly bewildered.

  Selene turned her head.

  A desk. Bookshelves. And behind the desk, quill suspended mid-air over parchment. Professor Halvern.

  He leaned forward, his silver hair catching the afternoon light as he peered over the desk. His gaze followed the destruction from above, starting at the gaping hole in the ceiling, drifting down across the settling dust and the cluttered surface of his desk before finally coming to rest on Selene on the floor, his expression a careful blend of disbelief and restraint.

  He set his quill down with deliberate care.

  “I see we’ve abandoned the door entirely,” he said.

  Selene pushed herself up on her elbows, wincing as a spasm of pain shot down her spine. Everything hurt.

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  The water kept coming.

  She looked up at the hole. Down at herself. At the debris scattered everywhere: chunks of plaster, splinters of rotten wood, a piece of blackened support beam that looked like it had been decomposing for decades.

  A laugh bubbled up, slightly hysterical..

  "I..." She gestured vaguely at the ceiling. "That wasn't intentional."

  "I gathered as much," Halvern said, thoughtful. He stood, moving around his desk to survey the damage. His expression was carefully neutral as he looked up at the hole.

  Drip.

  Water landed on his shoulder.

  He stepped aside, brushing at the wet spot.

  "The hidden passages," he said quietly. His gaze shifted to Selene. "Though I confess I didn't expect them to be quite so... structurally unsound."

  BANG BANG BANG.

  The office door shuddered under heavy fists.

  "Professor Halvern! We heard a crash—is everything alright?"

  Multiple voices outside. Urgent.

  Halvern's eyes met Selene's.

  She was still on the floor, covered in dust and chunks of rotten wood, very obviously having just fallen through his ceiling.

  The door handle rattled.

  Halvern looked at the man on the floor, his friend of over twenty years, and made a choice. He moved to the door and opened it only slightly, his body blocking the view inside.

  "Gentlemen. A shelf collapsed. Nothing to be alarmed about."

  "We heard—it sounded like—"

  "An exaggeration, I assure you." His voice held quiet authority. "I will see the matter attended to. You may return to your duties."

  Murmuring outside. Uncertain.

  "Are you certain—"

  "Quite certain. Thank you."

  He closed the door firmly. The lock clicked.

  Silence fell.

  Drip. Drip.

  Halvern turned back to Selene.

  "You don't have a reasonable amount of time," he said quietly, "before those men decide to investigate despite my assurances." He gestured toward the hole. "I assume there is an explanation for why you were skulking through condemned passages?" A faint, knowing smile touched his mouth. "Typically, Aldric, when you wish to discuss celestial mechanics, you simply knock."

  Selene pushed herself to her feet, brushing dust from Aldric's coat. A piece of rotten wood fell from her shoulder.

  "I'm looking for Selene," she said. "I thought—" She gestured upward. "I thought she might have gone somewhere… unexpected."

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  Halvern's eyebrow rose slightly.

  "In the walls."

  "An imaginative choice, if nothing else."

  Drip.

  A pause.

  "Well." Halvern moved to the window, peering out. "I think the Ardent siblings are rather eager to have a chat with you. They were questioning Thena earlier. Sounded quite..." He paused, choosing his word carefully. "...agitated."

  His gaze returned to Selene.

  "You should find your daughter before she starts causing trouble. You know how she can get when she's worried."

  Selene's throat tightened. "Thena's talking to the Ardents?"

  "She was—until a short time ago." He glanced up at the ceiling. "Given that spectacular entrance, I suspect they'll be converging on this location shortly."

  Drip. Drip. Drip.

  The water was forming a small puddle now.

  "There's a hidden exit, just like the passages." Halvern moved to a small door tucked between two bookshelves and opened it, revealing a narrow stairwell descending into shadow. "It leads to the eastern gardens. From there, you can avoid passing through the main halls." He paused at the threshold, a faint smile touching his lips.

  "You know, we tell the students a rather amusing story about those passages." His tone carried dry humor. "Some poor apprentice wandered in decades ago, got himself hopelessly lost, and now he haunts the old corridors—doomed to wander forever, waiting for some other fool to stumble in and keep him company."

  He adjusted his spectacles.

  "Keeps them from getting curious. Works remarkably well, actually."

  Selene swallowed. “I heard footsteps,” she said quietly. “Behind me. And… something else. A sound. Low. Like—”

  She stopped.

  Halvern's smile faded slightly. He looked at her, really looked.

  “Well.” His voice was dry. “All the more reason to use the door next time, wouldn’t you say?”

  He gestured toward the stairwell.

  "Every office has its own mystery, mind you. I'm fortunate mine has… this."

  Selene hesitated at the stairwell. "Why are you helping me?"

  Halvern adjusted his glasses again, his expression unreadable. “Because chaos follows you,” he said dryly, “and I would prefer it not to tear down the rest of my office.” A faint warmth softened his tone. “And because you asked for help, even if you didn’t say it aloud.”

  Footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Multiple sets. Moving fast.

  Halvern's gaze sharpened. "Go now."

  Selene descended into the stairwell without looking back.

  Halvern closed the door at once, sealing her from sight just as the footsteps drew nearer.

  Selene stepped into the eastern gardens, a terraced space of overgrown hedge rows and wild grass gone to seed, built into the hillside below the Athenaeum's eastern wing. Stone paths wound between beds long past their summer bloom, descending in wide tiers toward the streets below.

  From here, she could see Veilmouth spread beneath her, the Arlen River dividing north from south, the market square where she was just before.

  Beyond the low stone wall marking the garden's lowest tier, the Northern Bank's streets carried on their business.

  Selene paused, trying to brush the last bits of plaster dust from Aldric’s coat.

  Then she saw her.

  Thena sat on a stone bench near the garden’s center, beneath the bare branches of a beech tree. The wind lifted strands of her dark hair, carrying them across her face. She didn’t brush them away. Just sat there, hunched forward, her hands twisted together in her lap. It was a posture so unlike her usual restless energy.

  Her eyes were red-rimmed behind her glasses, the kind of raw that came from crying hard and trying to stop. She stared at the withered flower bed before her, at the brown stalks that had been bright with color just weeks ago. Dead now.

  The sight of her, small and lost, waiting for answers that wouldn’t come, made something twist in Selene’s chest.

  Selene's first instinct was to turn back.

  Find another route. Avoid this.

  But Thena's head lifted, some unconscious awareness pulling her attention toward the direction of Selene.

  Their eyes met.

  Too late.

  "Father?" Thena stood quickly, her amber eyes widening behind her spectacles. "What are you—" She stopped mid-sentence, her gaze traveling down Aldric's form.

  Her expression shifted from surprise to bewilderment.

  "Where have you been?"

  Selene moved forward slowly, each step feeling heavier than the last, Aldric's heavy boots crunching on the gravel.

  "Looking for Selene," she said.

  Thena's brow furrowed. "In the gardens? I already checked—" She stopped again, tilting her head slightly. "Father, what happened to your clothes?"

  Selene glanced down.

  Aldric’s dark green coat was covered in white plaster dust despite his efforts to remove it. Smudges of wet rot stained the sleeves. A piece of splintered wood clung to the fabric near his shoulder.

  She looked like she'd been buried and dug back up.

  "You look like you fell through a hole or something," Thena said, her voice rising with concern.

  Selene brushed at the dust ineffectively. "Close enough."

  Thena stared at her.

  "What?"

  "The old passages." Selene gestured vaguely back toward the Athenaeum.

  "You fell through the floor?"

  "Briefly."

  A moment of stunned silence.

  Then Thena’s expression hardened, confusion giving way to something sharper. Frustration mixed with fear.

  "Did those assholes come asking you questions?" Her voice dropped, tight with anger. "Demanding answers?"

  Selene went still. "The Ardents?"

  "Yes, the Ardents." Thena's hands pressed down hard against the stone bench on either side of her legs, knuckles whitening. "Mauldric and Isadora cornered me. Started interrogating me about where you'd been, what you'd said, whether I'd noticed anything unusual about your behavior."

  Her jaw clenched, fingers digging harder into the cold stone.

  "Like I'd tell them anything even if I... knew."

  A strain pulled through her. "What did you say?"

  Thena stared down at the withered flowers, her voice dropping.

  "I lied." The word came out small. Ashamed. "Told them I hadn't seen you. That you left for the ruins days ago and I didn't know when you'd return. I told them to try the western archive. As far from me as possible."

  She looked up, fear clear in her amber eyes. "Father, they're Luminars. The Circle." Her voice cracked slightly. "And I lied to them. Directly. I realized... I realized I didn't care what they wanted. I just didn't want them near you."

  Her gaze locked on Aldric's face, searching for reassurance she wouldn't find.

  "What did you do?"

  Despite everything, despite the lie she was living, despite wearing a dead man’s face, Selene felt a flicker of warmth. Thena, who worshipped the Circle, had chosen her father over her faith. She protected him. Protected me.

  "Thank you," she said quietly.

  Thena's expression softened slightly, but the fear remained beneath it, raw and unguarded.

  "What's happening, Father?" Her voice cracked on the question. "Why are the Ardents searching for you? Why won't anyone tell me what happened at those ruins?"

  Her amber eyes searched Aldric's weathered face.

  "And where is Selene?" Her voice dropped to something fragile, barely holding together. "Please—just tell me the truth. Is she—"

  She stopped. Swallowed hard. Her eyes were already filling again.

  "Is she... gone?"

  The word came out broken, trembling. A question she was terrified to have answered.

  The word hung in the air between them.

  Gone.

  Selene's hands curled into fists at her sides. Every instinct screamed to reach out, to comfort, to say I'm right here—

  But she couldn't. Aldric's hands stayed at her sides. His face remained neutral. Distant.

  The cruelest part of the disguise.

  "I don't know," she said. It was the only truth she could offer. "But I'm going to find her."

  Thena's eyes glistened behind her glasses.

  "The Copper Hearth," Selene continued, forcing the words out. "She likes the quiet corners there. Maybe I—" She stopped. "Maybe I should check. See if she's..."

  Thena wiped at her eyes quickly, nodding. "Yes. Yes, that makes sense. She does go there sometimes after—"

  She stopped.

  Her eyes sharpened as determination pushed the despair aside.

  "We'll go together," she said firmly, rising from the bench.

  Selene's stomach dropped. "No, I need to—"

  "Oh no you don't." Thena's voice carried an edge of steel that reminded Selene sharply of moments when their roles had been reversed, when Selene had refused to let Thena face something alone. "Whatever's happening, whatever you're hiding, we're doing this together."

  She moved to Aldric's side, her hand wrapping around his arm with surprising strength.

  Selene flinched.

  The touch was familiar. Thena had held her father’s arm a thousand times. But to Selene, it felt like a brand. She could feel the warmth of Thena’s hand through the sleeve of the dead man’s coat. It was a loving touch intended for a ghost, accepted by a liar.

  "Come on."

  Selene opened her mouth to argue—to deflect, to find some excuse—

  But Thena was already pulling her toward the descending paths, toward the streets beyond.

  Toward the Copper Hearth where Selis waited. She let herself be led forward.

  Because what choice did she have?

  The market square hummed with afternoon voices: merchants calling prices, cart wheels rattling over cobblestone, the steady pulse of commerce.

  Normal. Moving. Time flowing as it should.

  Selene's hand touched the pocket watch briefly, reassurance.

  Then soldiers, at a distance.

  Selene spotted them immediately: four spread among the stalls. They were lounging, obstructing, taking up space. Baron’s men.

  One of them, a thick-set man with a dented helmet, shoved a fruit merchant aside to check behind a crate, not caring when apples spilled across the cobbles. Another leaned on his spear, eyes bleary but suspicious, tracking anyone who moved too fast.

  They weren't precise, but they were thorough in their own clumsy, brutish way.

  Selene's pulse quickened.

  She turned back toward the Athenaeum—there had to be a way back—

  And she went rigid.

  Above, visible through the terraced gardens they'd just left, two figures moved between the hedgerows. Dark coats. Deliberate movements.

  Mauldric and Isadora.

  They weren’t alone. Two more figures accompanied them, their men, most likely. All spread out across the garden paths.

  Seeking.

  Thena followed her gaze, her face going pale. "They're—"

  "Everywhere," Selene finished quietly.

  The gardens behind. The square ahead. Trapped between the silent precision of the Luminars and the blunt force of the Baron's men.

  Her eyes swept left and caught the narrow gap between two timber-framed buildings. A side street. Shadowed. Quieter.

  "This way," she said, tugging Thena's arm toward it. "Now."

  "What? But the inn's straight—" Thena started, then stopped.

  Her gaze darted between the soldiers in the square and the figures moving through the garden above. Understanding dawned.

  Selene pulled harder. "Thena. Move."

  They slipped into a side street, narrower and shadowed between timber-framed buildings.

  Behind them, the square's noise faded to a murmur.

  Thena glanced back, watching another soldier appear from a cross street, laughing loudly as he stopped a wagon.

  Her grip on Selene's arm tightened, fingers digging in.

  "Why is everyone—" Her voice rose, breath coming faster. "Literally everyone—looking for you?"

  "Keep your voice down," Selene hissed, pulling her deeper into the narrow street.

  They turned onto another path, the Northern Bank's winding corridors between timber-framed dwellings. Ivy climbed the facades. Lanterns hung suspended between buildings, not yet lit.

  Quieter here. Safer.

  Selene's eyes swept left and right, checking windows, doorways, faces. Looking for uniforms. Looking for anyone watching too closely.

  Beside her, Thena's breathing had gone shallow. Her free hand twisted in her skirt, wringing the fabric.

  Ahead, a familiar figure emerged from a side alley. Broad shoulders, weathered face, arms loaded with canvas bags and bundled supplies.

  Garen.

  Selene’s heart jumped. She almost raised a hand, almost called out his name. Garen. It’s me.

  He moved with that same steady purpose, hauling gear toward the Athenaeum. An engineer walked beside him, gesturing at something on a diagram, oblivious to the weight the porter carried.

  Selene's steps slowed. She forced her hand down.

  Garen passed within ten feet of them, his gaze sliding over Aldric's face without recognition. No spark of acknowledgment. No pause.

  Just another scholar. Another stranger. Another face from the Athenaeum who saw Lowtowners as furniture.

  He continued up the path, the engineer still talking, still pointing.

  Thena noticed Selene watching. "What—"

  "Nothing," Selene whispered.

  She pulled Thena forward again, but the moment tasted like ash.

  I am invisible in plain sight.

  "Dad." Thena's voice cracked. Her other hand came up, gripping Selene's sleeve with both fists now. She wasn't pulling, just holding on, like she was afraid he'd disappear if she let go. "What's happening? What did you do?"

  Selene kept walking, her mouth working.

  "Please." Thena stumbled slightly, her legs unsteady. Selene caught her, steadied her. "Just tell me what's going on."

  They turned another corner. Ahead, the Copper Hearth's tiled roof came into view, close now.

  "When we get to the inn," Selene said finally, her voice low and rough, "I'll tell you everything."

  She felt the weight of the lie pressing against her teeth.

  Thena started to protest, her mouth opening—

  "Right now," Selene continued, cutting her off gently, "just help me get there. Please."

  Thena searched Aldric’s face. Her hands loosened slightly on his arm, trembling. Whatever she saw there, the fear, the desperation, the exhaustion, made her go quiet.

  She nodded once.

  They walked the rest of the way in silence, Thena's hand still wrapped around her father's arm.

  Selene's eyes never stopped moving, scanning, checking, watching for uniforms in the crowd.

  The Copper Hearth drew closer with each step.

  And with it, the moment when everything would unravel.