The rumors had finally looped back. People from distant pockets started showing up at the Free Zone hub with wide eyes and notebooks. They didn't come for supplies or work. They came to pay respects to the legends.
It started small. A trader from the northern ridges walked up to Atlas while he was fixing a roof tile and dropped into a deep bow.
"Anchor of the Reset," the man said, voice shaking. "I heard you stopped the collapse with nothing but stubbornness and a red pen. Grant me safe roads."
Atlas stared down from the ladder. "I just wrote some rules on a door. The pen was normal."
Too late. The trader's pack rustled. A small brass compass tumbled out and landed at Atlas's feet. Skritch, who had been pretending to count nails nearby, snatched it up.
"Story toll," Skritch announced, grinning with too many teeth. "First one's free. Second one costs extra."
