The second day in the city started with breakfast.
Real breakfast.
Not the stale rations we'd been choking down for four years, not the handfuls of whatever we could scavenge, carefully divided to make sure everyone got an equal share of not enough. This was abundance, spread across a table in the building's common area like something from a dream I'd half-forgotten.
Fresh bread, still warm. Eggs, actual eggs, cooked soft and perfect. Fruit in varieties I couldn't name anymore, colors too vivid to seem natural. Some kind of porridge that steamed gently, smelling of cinnamon and honey. Juice in glass cups, clear and cold.
I sat at the table with Nyx and Lira, staring at the food like it might vanish if I blinked too hard.
Nyx reached out carefully, selected a piece of melon, and took a small bite. Her eyes went wide in that way they did when she encountered something new, rose petals blooming fully open.
"It tastes the same," she said.
I looked up. "What?"
"The same as yesterday." She took another bite, chewed thoughtfully. "Exactly the same. Every piece tastes identical."
Lira paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. "That's, what, a good thing? Means it's consistent quality."
"No," Nyx said slowly, her analytical tone sharpening. "I mean *identical*. Yesterday I had melon at the stall. This tastes exactly like that piece. Same sweetness, same texture, same temperature. Food doesn't work like that. There should be variation. Some pieces riper than others, some parts sweeter, some, I don't know, different somehow."
I picked up my own piece of fruit, an apple this time. Bit into it. The taste flooded my mouth, perfect and sweet and,
And exactly like the apple Nyx had eaten yesterday while discovering that food had texture.
*Exactly* like it.
Down to the precise level of crispness, the exact balance of sweet and tart, the identical way the juice felt on my tongue.
I set it down carefully. "You're right. That's, that's weird."
"Maybe they just have really good quality control?" Lira suggested, but her voice carried doubt. Her hand had moved closer to her knife without her seeming to notice.
Before any of us could respond, a woman entered the common area, smiling that same warm, open smile we'd seen on everyone since we arrived. "Good morning! I hope you're enjoying breakfast. Please, eat as much as you'd like. There's plenty."
The exact same words the person at the stall had used yesterday.
The exact same inflection.
"Thank you," I said automatically. "This is, it's wonderful. We really appreciate it."
"Of course! You're very welcome. Enjoy your stay." She turned to leave, then paused as if remembering something. "Oh, and if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask. We want you to feel completely at home here."
She left before we could respond.
Nyx watched her go, head tilted. "That's the third person who's said 'feel completely at home here' in exactly that way. Same tone. Same pause before 'completely.'"
"People say the same things sometimes," Lira said, but she'd stopped eating entirely now. "It's just, you know, politeness. Standard phrases."
"Humans don't repeat things that precisely," Nyx countered. "You taught me that. You said humans vary their speech even when saying the same thing. That's how you knew I was mimicking instead of understanding at first."
She was right. I'd noticed it too, now that she'd pointed it out. The woman's speech had that quality of being performed rather than natural. Like she was reciting lines instead of actually talking.
"Maybe we're overthinking this," I tried, but the apple sat heavy in my stomach now, too sweet, too perfect, too *wrong*.
---
Kai came downstairs an hour later, looking exhausted despite supposedly having slept in an actual bed for the first time in years.
"Xeno's worse," he said without preamble.
My stomach dropped. "How much worse?"
"Fever spiked during the night. Amie's with him now, trying to bring it down, but," he rubbed his face with both hands. "He keeps muttering things. Not making sense most of the time, but some of it is, I don't know, concerning."
"Concerning how?" Lira was on her feet immediately, the brief peace she'd found yesterday completely evaporated.
"He keeps saying 'they're watching' and 'can't let them see' and something about marks spreading. Amie thinks he's delirious, that it's just fever dreams, but the way he says it, it sounds like, like a warning."
Nyx's wings shifted restlessly. "Should we leave? If this place is making him worse, if something here is,
"And go where?" Kai interrupted, not unkindly. "Back to the wasteland? We don't even know how we got here. That hole in the ground, it wasn't there when I went back to check this morning. Just smooth earth, like it never existed."
Silence fell over the group.
"That's not possible," Lira said flatly.
"Yeah, well, add it to the list of impossible things we've seen this week."
I stood up, decision made. "I'm going to walk around. Explore a bit. See if I can figure out what this place actually is."
"Not alone," Lira said immediately.
"I'll go with her," Nyx offered, already moving toward the door. "I want to observe the humans more anyway. See if there are other, patterns."
Kai nodded slowly. "Okay. But stay visible. Stay in populated areas. And if anything feels off, you get back here immediately. Understood?"
We both nodded.
As we left, I heard Kai mutter to Lira: "Everything about this feels off. That's the problem."
---
The city in daylight was even more impossible than it had been at dusk.
Clean streets stretched in perfect grids, not a piece of litter visible anywhere. Buildings maintained with obvious care, paint fresh, windows gleaming. Trees planted at regular intervals, leaves a uniform healthy green that didn't exist in nature anymore.
And people. So many people.
They walked with purpose but without urgency, going about their days in a choreographed flow that looked natural at first glance but felt rehearsed the longer I watched. A man passed us carrying groceries in reusable bags, smiling at nothing in particular. Two women stood talking on a corner, their conversation animated but too distant to hear actual words. Children played in a small park, their laughter musical and bright.
All of it perfect.
All of it wrong.
"They don't look at us," Nyx observed quietly as we walked.
She was right. People passed within arm's reach, occasionally offering those same warm smiles, but their eyes never quite focused on us. It was like they were looking *through* us rather than *at* us, seeing the space we occupied but not registering us as individuals.
"And they don't talk about anything real," I added, remembering. "Last night, yesterday, every conversation I've overheard has been about the weather or food or how nice the city is. No one mentions family members who aren't present. No one talks about work beyond vague pleasantries. No one,
"No one talks about fear," Nyx finished. "No one mentions danger or threats or anything bad at all."
We walked in silence for a while, letting the wrongness of it all sink in.
Then Nyx grabbed my arm, pulling me to a stop.
"There," she said, pointing down a side street.
I followed her gaze and saw, guards.
Not obvious about it. They weren't in uniform, weren't carrying visible weapons. But the way they stood, the way they moved, the way their eyes tracked the few people who walked past them, it was unmistakable.
They were watching.
Controlling.
Making sure people didn't go somewhere they weren't supposed to.
"What are they guarding?" I whispered.
Nyx's eyes narrowed, rose petals contracting to sharp points. "I don't know. But I want to find out."
We started walking toward the guarded street, trying to look casual, like we were just exploring aimlessly.
One of the guards noticed us approaching. His smile never wavered, but his body language shifted subtly, positioning himself more directly in our path.
"Good morning!" he called out, voice warm and friendly. "Beautiful day, isn't it? Are you girls lost? Can I help you find something?"
"No, we're fine," I said, still moving forward. "Just looking around."
"Of course, of course. Though I should mention, that area," he gestured vaguely behind him, "is undergoing some maintenance. Nothing dangerous, just, well, you understand. Best to explore other parts of the city for now. Plenty to see elsewhere!"
There was no visible barrier. No signs indicating restricted access. Just his body and his smile and the implicit threat underneath his friendly words.
"What kind of maintenance?" Nyx asked, her voice carrying that innocent curiosity that could be mistaken for childish interest but was actually her cataloging information for later analysis.
"Oh, just routine infrastructure work. Very boring, really. Nothing that would interest visitors. But there's a wonderful park just two blocks that way, very popular with young people. Perhaps you'd like to see that instead?"
It wasn't a suggestion.
I felt Nyx tense beside me, wings twitching with the urge to simply fly over him and see what he was hiding.
"Sure," I said quickly, grabbing her hand before she could do something reckless. "The park sounds nice. Thank you."
His smile widened with what looked like relief. "Excellent choice! Enjoy your day!"
We walked away, not speaking until we were well out of earshot.
"He was lying," Nyx said flatly.
"Yeah."
"And he didn't want us to see what was down that street."
"No, he definitely didn't."
"So we're going back tonight," she concluded. "When it's dark and there are fewer people watching."
I should have said no. Should have insisted we stay safe, stay visible, not take unnecessary risks when we still didn't understand what this place was.
But curiosity and suspicion burned too hot to ignore.
"Yeah," I agreed. "We're going back tonight."
***
We found Luca in the park the guard had mentioned, sitting on a bench with his violin case beside him, watching people pass with unusual intensity.
"Noticed anything weird?" he asked as we approached, not looking away from the foot traffic.
"Besides everything?" I sat down beside him. "Guarded streets. Perfect food. Scripted conversations. Take your pick."
"Add this to the list," he said, nodding toward a young couple walking hand in hand. "Watch them."
We watched.
The couple strolled past, talking to each other in low voices, smiling, the picture of contentment.
Then they reached the end of the visible path, turned a corner, and,
And reappeared at the beginning of the same path five minutes later, walking with the same pace, wearing the same expressions, recreating the same scene like actors doing another take.
"They've done that loop four times since I sat down," Luca said quietly. "Exact same route. Exact same timing. I thought maybe they just really liked that particular walk, but then I noticed," he pointed to a man with a dog, "him. Three loops. And her," a woman with shopping bags, "five loops."
My skin prickled with wrongness that went beyond mere suspicion into actual dread.
"It's like they're decorations," Nyx said slowly. "Not real people living real lives. Just, scenery. Moving scenery designed to make the city look lived in."
"Yeah," Luca agreed. "That's exactly what it feels like. And the more I watch, the more I see the pattern. No one deviates. No one does anything unexpected. It's all just, performance."
"But performed for who?" I asked. "For us? Did someone build this entire elaborate trap just to,
I didn't finish the sentence because I didn't know how it ended.
Luca finally looked at me, and his expression was grim. "I don't know. But whatever the answer is, I don't think we're going to like it."
A woman walked past pushing a stroller, cooing at the baby inside with exaggerated maternal affection.
I caught a glimpse into the stroller as she passed.
Empty.
Completely empty.
She was pantomiming caring for a child that didn't exist.
My breath caught.
"Luca," I whispered.
"I saw it," he said, voice tight. "I've been seeing it for the last hour. About one in ten people here aren't, they're not whole. Not right. Missing pieces. Doing things that don't make sense if you pay attention."
"We need to leave," Nyx said firmly. "Now. Tonight. As soon as Xeno can travel,
"He can't travel," Kai's voice came from behind us. We turned to find him standing there, face pale, hands shaking slightly. "That's why I came looking for you. Amie sent me. He's, you need to come back. Now."
***
Xeno's room was dark despite the afternoon sun, curtains drawn against light that seemed to cause him pain.
He thrashed on the bed, skin slicked with sweat, breathing harsh and irregular. Amie knelt beside him with a wet cloth, trying to cool the fever that had turned his skin burning hot to the touch.
"It spiked an hour ago," she said without looking up. "I've tried everything, ice, medication we found in the building's supply closet, nothing's working. His body is rejecting, something. Like he's allergic to this place itself."
I moved closer, and Xeno's head turned toward me despite the blindfold, despite the fever that should have left him unconscious.
"Yona," he rasped, voice barely audible.
"I'm here. We're all here."
His hand shot out with surprising speed, fingers closing around my wrist with painful intensity. "They're here," he said, the words urgent despite their weakness. "All around us. In the walls. In the food. In the, the *air*,
"Who's here?" I asked, leaning close. "Xeno, who are you talking about?"
"Can't see them," he muttered, fever breaking his thoughts into fragments. "But they see us. Always watching. Waiting for, for something. For the marks to, to,"
His body convulsed, back arching off the bed, a cry of pain torn from his throat that made my chest ache.
When the spasm passed, he collapsed back, breathing ragged.
"The city," he whispered. "Not real. Trap. Test. Something, wrong. Have to leave. Have to,"
His grip on my wrist tightened until I felt bones grind together.
"Don't eat the food," he said with sudden clarity, eyes fixed on me through the blindfold with that eerie precision he somehow maintained. "Don't trust, the comfort. It's, it's feeding on something. On us. On the marks. Getting stronger while we get,
Another convulsion cut off his words.
Amie gently pried his fingers from my wrist. "You should go. Let him rest. If he has any chance of recovering, he needs,
"He's not going to recover here," Luca said from the doorway. "Is he?"
Amie was quiet for a long moment. "No," she admitted finally. "Whatever this place is, it's poison to him. To whatever he, to whoever he,
"We leave tomorrow," Lira announced, voice hard with decision. "First light. We carry him if we have to. But we're not staying here another day."
"Agreed," Kai said.
"Agreed," Amie echoed reluctantly.
Nyx nodded, wings spreading slightly in agitation.
I looked down at Xeno, watching his chest rise and fall too quickly, listening to his labored breathing, and felt the goddess stir inside me for the first time since we'd arrived.
Not speaking. Not taking control.
Just, amused.
Like she'd been waiting for us to figure out what she'd known from the beginning.
This place wasn't salvation.
It was something else entirely.
And tomorrow, we'd find out what.
Whether we were ready or not.
***
That night, I lay in the soft bed that should have been comfortable but felt like it was slowly swallowing me, and I didn't sleep.
None of us did.
Because now that we'd seen the cracks in the illusion, we couldn't unsee them.
The building was too quiet for a place that should have other occupants.
The city lights outside never varied, never flickered, maintaining their golden glow with mechanical precision.
And somewhere in the walls, if I listened very carefully, I could hear something.
Movement.
Breathing.
Waiting.
Xeno had been right.
They were here.
All around us.
And we'd walked right into their arms, lured by the promise of safety that had never been real at all.
Tomorrow we'd run.
Tonight, we'd watch.
And pray that morning came before whatever was wearing this city's skin decided it was done playing with us.