The walk from the shoreline felt like marching through a dream made of static and salt. Every step Nala took resonated through the soles of her boots, a rhythmic thrumming that matched the flickering of the streetlights lining the Kigamboni bridge. She wasn't just walking; she was dragging the city’s attention with her.
"Nala, wait," Leo staggered, his hand catching a rusted guardrail. His skin was pale, almost translucent under the orange glow of the sodium lamps. "They’re watching. Not just the Architect... everyone."
He was right. Behind the darkened windows of the shacks and from the shadows of the parked bajajis, eyes were watching. Not with fear, but with a strange, hungry recognition. The violet glow in the young boy’s eyes wasn't an isolated incident; it was spreading like a digi
