Chapter 35 · A Name Without a Master

The city forgot itself in pieces.

A bell tower leaned across the avenue, its bronze face split from crown to base. When the hour struck, the sound came out wrong—one deep note, then a burst of voices crying names that belonged to no one. Windows shattered beneath the echo. A woman in a red coat stood in the middle of the street, staring at a little boy who clung to her hand.

“Who are you?” she whispered.

The boy’s fingers tightened around hers. “Mama?”

She flinched as if he had struck her.

Noa ran past them with one hand pressed to her ribs and the other locked around Evelyn’s wrist.

“Don’t stop,” Noa said.

“I wasn’t going to.” Evelyn’s boots skidded on a ribbon of black ink spilling from a storm drain. “You were.”

Noa glanced back. The woman in red had begun to scream. The boy’s face crumpled, but he did not let go.

The First Ledger had written its rule into the city’s bones. Every person’s most important bond would be erased first. Not the body. Not the voice. The meaning.

Noa stumbled as the street buckled beneath them.