Daniella ran a finger down the directory for Naghtown Police as she spun the phone’s metal dial, like turning a cold moon over dark water.

Each half-turn nudged a tiny ball bearing inside, a slow chew on a sugared morsel, cautious and neat.

The royal line’s rotary sounded unlike any other phone, like a bluish fish gliding through a dim room; its timbre soaked the clean indoor air, the crackling hearth, the wind that gnawed to the bone.

“No one’s picking up.” Daniella leaned from the receiver. Daylight pooled at the window and washed Liliyana’s cheek; her lashes trembled like moth wings. “I’ll try again.”

Liliyana said nothing. Long silence felt like low tide to her, bare sand and steady breath. The dial spun again. Crisp clicks unfurled through the room, like creases surfacing on a thin bedsheet.

Every call had its waiting: whether you dialed out or heard a bell ring, you waited for the faraway other to stop what they were doing, lift their head, and tilt an ear to a bell from miles away.

Only then did the long wait end.

Why hasn’t someone invented a portable phone? Liliyana thought, a small flame of impatience. No jogging to the table, just a pocket-sized phone, answers caught at once like fireflies.

The room went oddly still, as if the whole world leaned in to hear her thinking.

“Hello?” Daniella test-called, snapping the thread of thought. Liliyana tilted her head toward the table. Waiting shifted from the line’s answer to Daniella’s next word. “I’m the assistant to Dean Clara. What do you want to say?”

The voice on the other end came muffled, like speech through wet wool.

Liliyana held her breath to listen. Even with a royal phone, you had to press close to hear across unstable signal seas. For secrecy, at least, the line was flawless.

“He wants to speak with you.”

Daniella handed over the receiver. Before Liliyana could speak, a complaint barged through, hot as a slammed door. “Goddammit—dragged me out of a dream! Hey? You Liliyana Clara?”

“Yes.”

“I’m—what’s the name—Rex Mandele…”

“Hello, Mandele.”

“You… let me think how to ask…” Mandele’s voice rasped like ice shaved at a strange angle. “Do you have an Investigator in Naghtown? Is that the right way to ask?”

“What did he tell you?”

“I asked you a question.”

Liliyana’s brow tucked, then smoothed like a ripple passing. She took the reins back. “The Investigator’s cover is excellent. If you know that, he approached you first. So skip the frills. Go straight to the point.”

“I, uh, beat up pretty much everyone in town.”

“Very funny.” Liliyana rubbed the armrest of her wheelchair. He sounded like a man who needed a runway before takeoff. “Seems we’ll have to toughen the Investigators against interrogation.”

“Heh. Not going there.”

“Please go on.”

“The Dark Realm in Naghtown is waking.”

Liliyana nodded on instinct, as if threading the words onto tape. Her voice tilted at a peculiar pitch. “No wonder you started with a joke.”

“Yeah, we could all just drop dead.”

“Any cracks yet?”

“Lines in the sky. That’s what I saw.”

“The prelude.”

Mandele sniffed, annoyed breath through grit. “Your Investigators can’t get you or that tongue-twisting vice dean on the line, so they came to me. You people are a pain to talk to!”

“That’s on me. Stratford’s lines are dead. I haven’t briefed the field Investigators yet.”

“Of course.”

“Besides that, what else did he say?”

“He reported to the Institute. Said they’d send people soon.”

“The Dark Realm over Naghtown… if I recall, it sleeps above the Molokov Bay Chapel.” Her tone softened, a cloud shading the sun. “Faith runs deep there. The Sacred Cathedral as the ignition point for the corrosion effect—that’s a bad omen.”

“Not your place to sermonize.”

“Fair enough.”

Mandele tapped the tabletop, a patient Morse over old wood, knock by measured knock. “I sent a squad to the Sacred Cathedral. We’ll keep residents away until it’s handled.”

“If you had to do that, this isn’t a natural awakening.”

“There are two out-of-towners… actually four… but the awakening came from two. One goes by Canary. The other, no clue.”

“I’ll note their names.”

“Is this gonna be as bad as the Shattered City?”

“It depends.”

“Don’t feed me official crap!” Mandele snapped, palm thudding the desk like a gavel. “That line makes me sick!”

“I understand how you feel—”

“Cut it. Tell me how long till it’s solved!”

“Until the Investigators shut the Dark Realm again.”

“Feels like there’s a back half.”

“I’m trying not to set you off.”

“Got it—” Mandele mocked, a sing-song curl. “It depends.”

“We’ll try to keep the Dark Realm’s damage to a minimum. But be ready. This won’t end without casualties.”

“I don’t want to turn into a monster.”

Liliyana heard the want under his anger, a hand held out in smoke, begging for a promise. She didn’t give a clean answer. Her words came fog-soft. “No one wants to be the monster in another’s eyes.”

“Sounds like nothing.”

“You mentioned four outsiders. Who are the other two?”

“A curly little gray-head and a small jet-black head,” he joked again, humor like a coin he flipped when anxiety bit. He didn’t let her ask before continuing. “Hedi Melvina and Selena Viola. Got the latter from the inn’s registry.”

“With the two of them, we might close Naghtown’s Dark Realm cleanly.”

“Doesn’t look it.”

“Viola’s an Investigator of the Institute. Melvina’s a very capable Professor of Magic. You can take their advice when needed.”

“I have my own code.”

“Understood.”

“You do one thing—get those damn Investigators here. Fast.”

“Keep residents at home. That slows the corrosion effect’s reach.”

“What do you mean? Hide at home and still turn into monsters?”

“The corrosion effect is a special energy wave. Only the Institute’s instruments and magic push it back.” Liliyana cleared her throat, a thin bell in a chapel. “I respect your code, but listen to Melvina when appropriate. She’s a formidable Professor of Magic.”

“Damn it.”

The click of the hang-up was a guillotine. Liliyana told Daniella to pull everything on Canary. Then, almost absently, “If the Shattered City was any guide, Stratford’s old partners likely did this too.”

“Stratford’s death hurts worse than its life ever did!”

“It’s all right. Shoulder to shoulder, we can outlast anything.”

“But—”

“I said, it’s all right.”

“How is it all right? We’re already under fire for the Shattered City! If the nobles use Naghtown to pile on—”

“Remember the phone with the interception barrier?” Liliyana lifted her head, calm as winter light. “We could trace Melvina’s line to an address, but the other lines vanished.”

“The interception barrier… you even said it…”

“You ran yourself ragged, searching for ages.”

“Not strong enough.”

“I’m not blaming you. I’m saying this: we’re finally facing the thing that hides in the shadow.”

Daniella looked at Liliyana in weary surrender. In her chair, she was as fine and breakable as the velvet on a peach.