Anna
Eidolon Veil did not sleep.
It recalibrated.
Even at night—if night was what this half-light counted as—the city breathed in intervals, chiming softly as emotions rose and fell within permitted thresholds. Anna felt it when she stepped outside: the air thick with restraint, like walking through a memory someone else was actively editing.
The Sanctum lay beneath the city.
Not hidden.
Not forbidden.
Simply undesired.
People avoided it the way one avoided thinking too hard about grief—not because it was dangerous, but because it asked questions no one wanted to answer.
Anna stood at the edge of a long, descending stair carved directly into the stone beneath a public square. Above them, people crossed bridges and shared carefully spaced conversations, never looking down.
“This p
