Months had passed since the Tapestry Wall went up. What started as a one-time project now sat in the middle of the main square like a permanent fixture.
People walked by it every day. Some added a scrap of cloth with a quick stitch. Others just stopped and stared for a minute before moving on. The Wall had become part of the routine.
Atlas stood twenty feet away, watching a farmer named Tomas pin up a new patch. The man worked with steady hands, attaching a piece of old sailcloth from the Reef next to a strip of Zone canvas.
When Tomas stepped back, the Wall flickered. A faint image appeared—rows of crops mixed with glowing Reef coral patterns. Tomas scratched his head.
"Worth a try," he muttered, then headed toward the fields.
Atlas rubbed the back of his neck. The Anchor inside him hummed softly, the same way it did whenever someone spent too long near the Wall. It wasn't loud.
