"I need to find a building," she said. "Where Celaris is based. Their headquarters."
That cut the rhythm entirely.
Truth blinked. Twice, grinning uncontrollably.
"You sure about that?"
"Do I look unsure?"
"No," he said. "You look like someone who just said something stupid out loud."
Elara face tightened visibly.
Truth shook his head. "Alright. Capital Hall. I'll show you. But for me, that's more a wall than a building."
"What?"
"It means I won't be getting past the glass."
He pushed himself up abruptly, coat scraping wood, already in motion. Laughing now, out loud.
"But if that's all you want, you better be sure," he added. "Cause once you see it—whatever you thought about this place? You won't be able to unthink it."
Elara rolled her eyes.
Truth grinned wider, like that was the reaction he wanted.
"Circling back, I don't work for free," he said.
"So what do you want?"
He raised his eyebrows, mock offended. "What I want? Nothing so transactional."
He turned slightly, already walking.
"Let's just say—I don't care what Celaris does to the rest of you. Really, I just like watching the cracks form. Even that show outside.. it was just a show, to scare a few apes."
He looked over his shoulder.
"But you? You've seen enough that I doubt I could just scare you. So with whatever you intend to do, entertain me. That's the price."
Elara didn't answer right away. Her eyes narrowed, studying him—not the offer, but the man behind it. He was too comfortable. Too deliberate in his weirdness. She didn't much like people who worked that hard to be noticed.
Still, he hadn't lied.
"Right," she muttered, sarcastically. "entertain you."
Truth gave a pleased little hum and slipped through the tavern door like it had all been prearranged.
Outside, the city hadn't dulled. If anything, it shimmered louder—like stepping into a display window. The lights felt warmer. The edges softer.
The air struck her again. Lighter. Cleaner. A faint citrus tang that felt unnatural on her tongue. Every breath carried that same sterile sweetness, the kind that didn't quite fill her lungs.
They crossed a plaza roughly the size of the Foundation's entire training yard. The scale hit her slowly—first in the sweep of space, then in the waste of it. She appreciated the polished stone and lamp halos glowing gold.
Lanterns hung from arched fixtures, and their light hit the tiles at exact angles. She noticed there was no flicker and no gaps. Everything bounced in clean, deliberate ribbons. Even the shadows looked composed.
Broad steps rose to housing blocks that leaned out over the street, suspended on braces so thin they looked temporary—like set pieces waiting to collapse after the curtain fell. But they didn't. Of course they didn't.
Glass walls gave glimpses into lives that didn't know fear. Inside, rooms yawned wide with open ceilings and color-coded decor. One apartment displayed a shelf of polished helmets. Another, an indoor koi stream.
Behind one window, a woman laughed. Head tilted back, glass in hand, heels kicked up onto the couch like she owned gravity.
Elara kept walking, but her eyes drifted.
Garden boxes floated overhead, suspended by cables that swayed gently in a breeze she couldn't feel. Thin waterfalls trickled from tower corners, vanishing into engraved drains cut like veins into the walkways.
Even the gutters were decorative.
She'd meant to hate it. Told herself she would. But her disgust kept folding into something harder to admit. Not awe. Not envy. Something colder. But part of her did.
Didn't even know homes could do that.
Somewhere along the last few blocks, she realized Truth hadn't stopped talking. Not once. His voice had become part of the background—drifting in and out with the same ease as the wind. She tuned back just in time to catch him glancing over his shoulder.
"Good view, huh?"
She said nothing.
He turned onto a footbridge without waiting. The surface dipped slightly at the center, just enough to feel it in the knees. Below, a wide river shimmered like oil under starlight, silent and deep.
That connects to the one from Sector 3, she thought. Would explain the dam. Looks like the right direction.
Truth glanced sideways. "You're doing that thing. Cataloguing."
"Do you ever shut up."
He grinned, then dropped it. "Fair."
The bridge emptied onto a narrower road. This one was darker—paved in matte tile, soundless underfoot. The walls curled inward slightly, forming an arch overhead that narrowed the sky. Even here, the air didn't change. It was like walking through a preserved breath.
At the midpoint of the street, a fountain stood centered in its own recessed platform—five marble discs, each thinner than the last, spinning silently inside one another. At their core, a single orb of water floated, perfectly balanced, never spilling.
Elara slowed watching it until Truth nudged her shoulder.