The third day of investigation brought new restrictions and more blatant obstruction. Entire wings of the palace were suddenly "closed for ceremonial preparations," and our team assignments grew increasingly mundane. We were relegated to examining the eastern gardens—beautiful but strategically irrelevant.
"They're stonewalling us," Ava said as we walked among meticulously sculpted hedges. "Every time we find something promising, we're reassigned."
I nodded, my frustration mounting. The investigation was stalling, and worse, my concentration continued to splinter. The visions—memories?—were growing more frequent, more vivid. They came without warning, triggered by seemingly random things: a particular shade of pink, the scent of jasmine, certain angles of sunlight.
"We need to change our approach," I said, pulling myself back to the present. "Instead of following their assignments, let's focus on what they're trying to hide."
