"We need time to consider," Sage heard himself say. His voice sounded strange in the quiet room.
Charlotte's smile was thin. "Consideration is a luxury. Your rations are currently suspended. You will find clarity comes quickly with thirst."
Regina tapped her slate. "You have until the next distribution cycle. Twenty-four hours. Report to Sector Chief Aurelian with your decision. He will relay it."
They were dismissed, released into the fading light. The message was clear: they were cut off. The world's mechanics were now personal. No Vitae to drink, to power lights, to cook. The ultimate leverage.
They walked, aimlessly, to a deserted overlook above the dry canal. The Spire cast its long, possessive shadow over them.
"We can't fight them," Valentine said, her voice flat. "We're dehydrated already. In twenty-four hours, we'll be desperate. In forty-eight, we'll agree to anything."
Sage's mind, fueled by a dizzying mix of fear and a last, stubborn spark of curiosity, raced over the pieces. The fracture. The corruption. The Vivification Sigil. The Aquifer's riddle. The Catalyzation Core. The offer.
"She wants us inside," Sage murmured. "She's not just containing us. She wants our 'ingenuity.' Why? Because they're struggling. The instability is worse than Lysander thinks. They need new solutions. They're desperate too."
He turned to Valentine, a wild, impractical idea forming. "What if we say yes?"
She stared at him. "You can't be serious."
"Hear me out. We go inside. We see the Core. We learn its weakness. Not to destroy it from the outside, but to… to change the note. To replace the dagger in the heart with the 'Stillpoint Spin.' To hold the space from the inside."
It was madness. It was a betrayal of everything they'd learned. It was walking into the lion's den to perform surgery on the lion.
Valentine looked from him, to the gloating Spire, to the vast, thirsty city below. Their options were oblivion, slavery, or a impossible, inside-out gamble.
The sun dipped below the horizon. The Spire's internal lights began to glow, a beacon of absolute control.
"We would need a plan within the plan," Valentine said finally, her discipline bending to the sheer scale of the gamble. "A way to communicate with Lysander. A way to get the old sigil designs inside. A way to survive long enough to try."
Sage nodded, the weight of their decision settling like a stone. They were out of moves on the outside board. The only play left was to jump into the center of the puzzle and try to re-write the rules from within.
The game had just entered its most dangerous phase.