Eira’s POV
Art doesn’t say a word. He steps up to the solid brick wall and presses his palm flat against it.
He pushes. The bricks don’t give. He raps his knuckles against the mortar. *Thud. Thud.* The sound is dead, flat, and entirely real.
"Was that wall always there?" Soren asks. His voice is quiet, lacking its usual easy confidence.
Nobody answers. The silence is answer enough.
Art pulls a piece of white ward chalk from his jacket. He draws a large, heavy X on the center of the bricks, the chalk scraping loudly in the quiet street. He taps the dust off his fingers and looks at Elias.
The old man is already walking toward a narrow, shadowed lane to our left. "The eastern route," Elias says, not looking back. "Try it."
Immediately we all moved.
The cobblestones beneath our b
