The shift is subtle enough that some people don’t notice it until it’s already cutting.
Aid doesn’t disappear.
It redirects.
Morning arrives with wagons rolling through Candle-supported zones first. The pattern is clear by the second hour. Food crates stacked neatly at registered hubs. Medical supplies inventoried and stamped. Repair crews dispatched with efficiency that borders on pride.
In the unregistered districts, people wait.
Not abandoned.
Just… pending.
The phrase appears everywhere.
“Your request is pending review.”
“Please be patient.”
“We’re prioritizing high-coordination zones.”
The shadow coils, cold and alert.
Aid has learned how to aim.
At the river table, the first delivery doesn’t arrive.
No explanation.
No delay notice.
Just absence.
People check the ledg
