Night had fallen over Sira, and the city seemed to lean closer, as if it wanted to test the newcomer. Mist hung thick between crooked rooftops, curling around the narrow alleys like living fingers.
Prince—inside Nasir's body—moved silently, his footsteps measured, almost imperceptible. The Reflection Avatar flickered beside him, its form barely visible, yet extending awareness farther than his eyes could reach.
Observation first. Understanding second. Action last.
A Whisper of the Veil Factions
He had chosen a target: a small warehouse in the Old Clock District. Rumors suggested it was a meeting point for one of Sira's minor Veil factions. The city whispered patterns to him: faint disturbances in shadow, subtle ripples in air currents, sigils etched faintly along walls.
The Reflection extended its senses, probing silently. Two figures patrolled the perimeter—masked, cloaked, deliberate. The threads of the Veil detected them before they noticed him.
Prince's mind cataloged their movements: timing, spacing, alertness. He noted a hidden sigil at the corner of the wall, faintly glowing. An entrance protected by subtle Veil magic.
Patterns. Probability. Response.
First Field Test of the Reflection
He stepped forward, using the Reflection as a proxy. The Avatar's presence shifted slightly, drawing attention without exposing him. One of the masked figures paused, sensing something, then dismissed it.
Prince smiled faintly. Observation works better than confrontation.
He traced the sigil with his fingers from a distance. Threads of Veil energy responded, faintly recoiling at his attention. Some wards were defensive, subtle, designed to alert, not harm. Others were protective of something deeper.
The Reflection hovered closer, sensing the layers of the Veil, mapping invisible boundaries, recording patterns. Prince's calm mind analyzed everything—the layout, the wards, the patrol rotations.
Hidden Messages
A faint whisper of movement drew his attention to a window above the warehouse. Someone had left a mark—a sigil that shifted subtly as if alive.
Prince crouched, examining it through the Reflection. The sigil wasn't meant for him. Not directly. It was a message to those attuned: "The new soul arrives. Watch, but do not touch."
So they know, he thought. And they are curious. Cautious.
The city was already aware of him. And yet, no one had interfered directly. Not yet.
Cosmic Whisper
The night deepened. Prince felt the faint tug of the Veils stretching beyond Sira. Threads twisted upward, toward places the city could not touch, reaching into spaces not meant for human eyes.
A chill ran along his spine, subtle but undeniable. Something waited. Not here. Not now. But aware. Watching. Patient.
He exhaled slowly. Calm, as always. Nasir's body was merely a vessel. His mind—the observing, calculating, patient consciousness—was what truly mattered.
Sira had revealed another layer. Factions were cautious, Veils were alive, and threads of power stretched into darkness far beyond this city.
Prince took one last glance at the warehouse, committing every detail to memory. His first field investigation had begun—and Sira had already started to reveal its secrets.