ARCA - MORNING AFTER THE SILVER RAIN
The whole city smelled like wet stone and honesty.
I stood on the balcony of the converted palace-council building and watched Arca wake up slower than usual. Streets still damp from the night rain. People moving carefully, like they'd all just survived some private collapse and weren't yet sure what shape came after it.
Shadow stood in the doorway behind me.
They signed: *"Three fights in the lower quarter. No deaths. One warehouse torched. Deliberately. Old crown supporters blaming the Assembly for 'humiliation by grief.'"*
"Of course they are."
They signed again: *"Also, the death archive building has a line around the block. Families waiting to read the original casualty records."*
That hit harder than the burned warehouse.
Truth had been released.
Now it was doing what truth always did when it arrived late:
breaking things open.
"Where's Regent Oren?" I asked.
