The world did not break.
That was the problem.
Across the capital, systems adjusted with unsettling grace. Where authority once flowed cleanly, it now hesitated—paused as if reconsidering its path before proceeding.
Orders were not rejected.
They were questioned.
Not aloud.
Not rebelliously.
But internally—by mechanisms that had learned, over centuries, to defer to alignment rather than command.
The council felt it immediately.
Not as loss.
As delay.
⸻
The High Councilor stared at the latest report, fingers trembling despite his effort to remain composed.
“Say it again,” he murmured.
The mage swallowed. “The lattice is functioning. But it’s… selective.”
“Selective how?”
“It responds faster to local governance than central directive. It prioritizes proximity over hierarchy.”
