The lockdown began quietly, which made it more dangerous than sirens ever could have. Ethan noticed it first when his phone lost signal on the walk home, not all at once but in fragments, messages hanging half-sent, notifications failing to load as if the world had decided certain connections were no longer necessary. The compass reacted before his mind caught up, a low persistent warmth spreading through his chest, not urgent but alert, and when he looked up he saw a patrol vehicle idling at the corner where there had never been one before, its lights off, its presence deliberate.
By the time he reached his house, the street felt narrower, the familiar shapes of neighbors’ homes subtly altered by tension, curtains drawn where they usually weren’t, conversations cut short when he passed.
