The city was growing—But not always in the same direction.
Cael stood near the new scaffolding of Grid Beta as arguments spiraled below him like heat trapped in stone. The construction crew was split—half following Arna's rounded plaza designs, half enforcing Riven's linear defensive logic.
And in the middle?
Lys.
She wasn't shouting, but she wasn't silent either. Her voice cut through the confusion like it had been shaped for command.
"Circular layouts waste movement. But walls that only defend can't evolve. We're building a living space, not a perimeter."
Someone threw a wrench.
Not at her—but because of her.
Cael climbed down.
"Enough."
Voices dropped.
He reached the center of the site and pointed to the hollow where two modular bases had already clashed—walls angling into each other like competing limbs.
"Whose schematic is this?"
A man raised his hand. Then another.
Then a third.
Cael exhaled.
"No one checked the lattice sync?"
Silence.
Nell's voice chimed through a nearby relay node.
"Compatibility failure was projected four hours ago. No one asked."
Lys stepped forward, unbothered by the tension.
"You're losing cohesion."
"I'm gaining initiative," Cael muttered. "The kind I didn't authorize."
"Then authorize something better."
She gestured at the mess.
"Because right now, your people are choosing systems by argument, not vision."
They met that night in the Quietspace. No one else. Just Cael, Nell, and Lys.
She laid out her tablet—no system link, just etched crystal and hand-sketched loops.
"I've built before," she said. "Not like this. Not under the Deep. But in the Dust Cities. Outposts that barely held for a Spiral. And I learned something."
She tapped the center.
"Systems build loyalty, but form builds memory."
Cael stared at the page.
The shape she drew wasn't a fortress. It wasn't even symmetrical.
It flowed—curved lines around supply nodes, open hall space with viewports angled toward the geothermal light ridge, low walls that encouraged movement but framed comfort.
"It looks like water," he said.
"Good," Lys said. "Because fire keeps people alive. But it's water that makes them stay."
Nell's voice hummed low.
"What is your system alignment, Lys?"
"I don't have one."
That was a lie. A quiet one.
But Cael let it sit.
He leaned back, the old weight behind his eyes.
"People already believe this place is theirs. I can't redraw the grid every time someone clever walks through the gate."
Lys looked at him. Not with anger.
But with certainty.
"You can if it's a better shape."