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Authority soldiers move through these geometric spaces with a confidence born of absolute control, their crimson robes vivid against the muted grays and browns of the buildings. Common folk scurry along the edges of the streets, eyes fixed on the ground, shoulders hunched. When a scarlet-robed figure passes, conversations die mid-sentence. A child's laugh cuts off abruptly at a mother's warning touch.

I’ve never felt more foreign, more conspicuous, than in this place where conformity isn’t just expected, it’senforced. Even the way people walk seems rehearsed, steps timed to an invisible rhythm of fear.

“Ashenvale was once the heart of Meridian,” Sacha explains as we walk. “Now it stands as the Authority stronghold. Everything here serves to reinforce their dominion.”

"How do people live here?" I ask quietly. "Under so much control?"

"They adapt. Most have known nothing different. The Authority provides structure, security—at the price of freedom."

I try not to stare at the stunning tower that dominates the skyline.Built of white stone threaded with black lines that seem to glow in the late afternoon, it stands as an inescapable reminder of who rules here. It reminds me of the silver tower in the desert, the place where I found Sacha imprisoned, not because of how it looks, but because of what it means. Beautiful from a distance. Terrible up close. Structures built not to shelter, but to cage.

“Where are we going?”

“The servants’ quarter. We’ll secure lodging for tonight. Tomorrow, we’ll observe the preparations for the Day of Order, and confirm what we’ve learned.”

We follow a wide avenue that leads deeper into the city. Authority soldiers patrol regularly, their crimson cloaks standing out against the muted colors worn by everyone else. None give us more than passing glances, our low positions ensuring we’re beneath notice in the Authority’s rigid hierarchy.

“Keep your head down,” Varam warns as we pass higher-ranking figures, their robes adorned with silver symbols. “Servants show proper deference here.”

I lower my gaze immediately, mimicking Mira. The constant suppression requires more concentration with each passing minute, the strain becoming its own kind of torture. It gnaws at the edges of my focus, making every breath a little harder to catch.

A group of Authority officials pass by, their conversation flowing around us. I catch fragments of their words, something about preparations and ceremonies. Their voices are clipped, controlled—every word weighed, as if even casual speech must be ordered under Authority eyes.

When we reach a modest stone building with the Authority emblem carved above its entrance, Sacha guides us inside.

The building resembles a simple hostel. Narrow hallways are lined with small chambers, washing rooms at each end. Sacha speaks to the man sitting near the entrance, presenting our documents in the same subservient manner he’s adopted since entering Ashenvale.

After a couple of minutes, he turns to us. “Rooms fourteen and seventeen. Mira and Ellie in fourteen, Varam you’re with me in seventeen.”

“I’m not staying with you?” The question blurts out before I can stop it, too loud in the hushed space.

One dark eyebrow twitches. “Men and women lodge separately in Authority holdings. You’ll stay with Mira.”

“But—” I choke on the word, the protest half-formed.

Heat crawls up my neck, burns my ears, sets my cheeks on fire as Mira, Varam,andSacha all turn toward me at once. The floor tilts slightly under my feet.

How do I explain that this will be the first time since arriving in this world that I won’t be sleeping with him in calling distance? That I’ve grown accustomed to having his presence nearby, the knowledge that he stands between me and danger? That in this strange world where everything shifts like sand beneath my feet, his nearness has become the only anchor I trust?

The realization of how dependent I've become shocks me into silence. This man I barely know, and yet something inside me already leans toward him without permission.

I shake my head. “Nevermind.” My voice sounds thin, brittle,and I straighten my shoulders too fast, forcing composure onto a body that wants nothing more than to vanish.

Something flickers in Sacha's expression, so brief I almost miss it. Regret, understanding, something more. Whatever it is, it’s gone before I can catch it, buried under the seamless control he never quite lets slip.

Without a word, he turns and leads the way down a narrow hallway. I follow, Mira behind me. By the time we stop outside a plain wooden door, and Sacha gestures for us to enter, I want the floor to open up and swallow me whole.

The room is sparse. Two narrow beds, a small table between them, and a single shelf for any belongings. The window looks out onto an interior courtyard rather than the street—not much of a view, but also less visibility from outside.

Mira sets her pack on the floor, and stretches out on one of the beds. I sit on the edge of the other, exhaustion washing over me, the earlier embarrassment still prickling against my skin.

A knock on the door makes Mira sit up a moment later. It swings open and Sacha walks in. He’s shed the outer cloak, his Authority tunic molding closer to his frame, but his eyes remain restless, scanning the corners of the room as if expecting danger to bloom from the walls. His presence changes something in the air, giving it a subtle, magnetic force I feel even across the room.

“Your room is the same as ours. Basic, but suitable for our needs.”

I study his face, noting the tiny signs of strain around his eyes that most would miss—the tightness at the corners, the slight decrease in the frequency of his blinking.

“This is harder than you expected, isn't it? Being back here.”