Chapter 10 · Mid-Month Massacre

Twenty-second morning.

They spent the iteration preparing like soldiers.

Vesper forged ward-keys. Dorian drilled lightning into shapes that could cut sigils without killing bystanders. Liora mapped the countdown to calendar days—measure twenty-two meant the breach pulsed every twenty-two minutes beneath the harbor.

Kael went to Renn and didn't tell him about loops.

"Stay away from the great hall at night," he said instead. "Any night. Please."

Renn's scarred face hardened. "You're scaring me."

"Good."

He left before trust could curdle further.

At dusk, the three loopers descended harbor stairs in masquerade masks. VIP tickets hummed in their pockets like live coals.

The fish sigil door opened on a red carpet tunnel—absurd elegance over rot.

Confluence chamber waited at the end—a domed room where three rivers of mana met beneath a glass floor. Through the glass, the breach swirled, larger now, eating light.

Serath stood at the center, alone.

"No guards?" Dorian said.

"You're the guards," Serath replied. "Or the keys. Sit."

Stone chairs rose from the floor. Compulsion tugged at Kael's legs. He fought it; sat anyway.

Serath poured wine. "Mid-month review. You've prevented three massacres. Delayed two. Impressive for iteration—what, twenty-two for you, Kael?"

Kael didn't bite.

Serath smiled.