Page 46 of Aïdes the Unseen
Chapter
Eight
GRAVEN
She’d changed. Again.
Not in the obvious ways. The hair, the name, the city—those were masks. Temporary. But underneath, her energy was different. Slower this time. Quieter. Like she was truly trying not to be found.
The flowers didn’t bloom for me.
They never did.
I stepped out into the warm city air, adjusting my collar as if it made a difference. Manhattan pulsed around me—horns and footsteps and breathless urgency—but I could still feel the faint thrum of her presence behind me. Like a thread pulled tight.
The simulation models hadn’t predicted she would activateyet.
She wasn’t supposed to begin remembering for another cycle. Even acknowledging that, I couldn’t stay away. I rarely found herbeforeshe began to remember. Still, something had stirred. I felt it the moment I stepped into the greenhouse: not just the plants, but the entire placereacting. Holding its breath.
It wasn’t just her. The whole city had shifted half a degree.
Thanatek’s Manhattan office was only a few blocks south, disguised as a boutique tech firm behind glass walls and gentle lighting. Inside, the air smelled sterile, filtered, static-neutralized. The kind of environment that promises logic, order, safety.
False promises.
The elevator recognized me without needing a keycard. Of course it did.
“Welcome, Mr. Skotos,” it said, voice smooth and sexless. “Simulation Room Two has resumed sync.”
“Show me,” I said.
Room Two was dark when I entered, because the room itself preferred shadow. The interface was biological now, threaded with living fiber and synthetic mycelium that mapped patterns faster than silicon ever could. It pulsed faintly as I approached.
The display shimmered to life.
Irina Bloom.
Human designation: Artist.
Energy designation: In flux.
She appeared as a soft silhouette within the node-map: bright, rooted, expanding.
But something else appeared now, too.
A second presence. Small. Recently bound. Canine. Shadow-tethered.
A dog?
“Curious,” I murmured.
One of the Thanatek bio-analysts appeared on the far side of the room, silent until acknowledged—Mara, gloves still on. Always.
“She took it home,” she said.
“You allowed that?”
“She didn’t ask.”
