"Don't start," Amberine whispered.
Aetherion did another subtle pulse—defense synchronization. A shimmer rippled through the amphitheater and even the corridor glass caught it like a wave passing through a reef. New conduit patterns glowed briefly under the floor. Disguised constructs shifted posture in alcoves. The air itself tightened, dampening fields pulling in like a net.
Two months ago, the "safest place" had bled.
Now it was flexing.
Not to impress.
To warn.
Astrid tried to look calm and failed slightly. Her hand adjusted her glasses again. "We stay together," she murmured. "No wandering. No side conversations."
Amberine opened her mouth to joke.
Maris gave her a look that said please don't.
So Amberine swallowed it.
They moved toward their staging pocket, but the corridor had narrowed into a social gauntlet.
A cluster of aides in black and silver approached. Their leader wore a polite smile that felt like a knife wrapped in silk.
