Chapter 37 · It is too clean

He opened the door.

The safe house looked untouched. A narrow table. Two chairs. A cold hearth. A stack of folded blankets. No bodies. No broken locks. No soldiers waiting in plain sight.

Sylvia did not step inside.

"It is too clean," she said.

Cassian's fingers flexed around hers. "You can hear me?"

"Barely."

"Then don't talk. Listen."

"You just told me to stay quiet?"

"For once."

She kicked the doorstop away and nudged the threshold with her boot.

Nothing happened.

Cassian moved first, pulling her behind him. He entered with one hand on his sword and the other locked around hers.

The door slammed shut behind them.

Sylvia spun.

The lock clicked.

"Cassian."

He tried the handle. It did not move.

A line of pale gold appeared beneath the door and spread across the floor. It circled their boots, then climbed the walls in thin glowing stitches.

The bond between Sylvia and Cassian flared.

Her vision sharpened.

The room changed.

The blankets vanished. The cold hearth filled with black ash. The walls showed hidden sigils carved under the plaster. Imperial marks. Fresh ones.

Cassian went rigid.

"You see it?" Sylvia asked.

"Yes.