---
They returned to Dawn House later in the late noon sun.
The city behind them still buzzed like a disturbed hive. Somewhere far away, a vendor was probably still screaming about vegetables and injustice. Sekhmet could almost feel the rumor spreading through the streets like smoke — Dawn House heir threw Dickon Iron into cabbages. In Slik, news did not walk. It ran.
But Dawn House stood apart from the noise.
Its district was quieter, the roads cleaner, the air less crowded with sweat and shouting. The closer Sekhmet came to the mansion, the more the world seemed to exhale. Not because the city was safer here, but because the people here believed it was.
And belief was a powerful thing in Null.
The mansion gates opened.
Creak…
