Elior did not move when the pressure fully settled around him.
Cars passed through the intersection in front of them, engines humming, tires hissing softly against damp asphalt. The pedestrian light remained red. People waited beside them, some staring at their phones, others glancing impatiently at the signal.
Nothing about the moment looked important.
That was the worst part.
Aria shifted beside him, hugging the folder to her chest. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly. "You went pale."
Elior swallowed. His mouth felt dry, like he had been breathing dust instead of air.
"I think we should turn back," he said.
Aria frowned. "Elior, the office is right there."
"I know," he said. "I just… something feels wrong."
She looked up at the sky instinctively, then back at him. "It looks fine."
"It did last time too," he said before he could stop himself.
Her expression changed. Concern sharpened into something closer to fear. "Last time what?"
Elior shook his head. "Never mind. Let's just not cross."
The pressure tightened.
It was no longer subtle. It pressed against his ribs, his spine, the inside of his skull. He felt like he was standing at the center of something vast that was slowly waking up.
Aria touched his arm. "You're scaring me."
He looked at her and saw the trust there, the expectation that he would make sense, that he would steady things instead of unravel them.
If he refused now, she would go anyway. He knew that. She always finished what she started.
"Okay," he said, forcing the word out. "Let's just grab it quickly."
The light changed.
They crossed.
With every step, Elior felt the sensation intensify, like the air itself was thickening around his body. The buildings on either side of the street felt taller than they should have, closer, leaning inward.
Halfway across, he stopped again.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I really can't do this."
Aria sighed, frustration bleeding through her worry. "Elior, please. You're acting like this place is dangerous."
"It is," he said. "Just not in a way I can explain."
A car honked behind them. Someone muttered something sharp as they navigated around the stalled pair. The light was already changing again.
"Move," Aria said, pulling gently at his sleeve. "We're blocking people."
The pressure surged hard enough to make his vision blur.
Elior took another step.
The records office loomed ahead, its glass front reflecting the street, the sky, the people moving beneath it. For a split second, the reflection wavered.
He stopped breathing.
The sky in the reflection was wrong.
Not fully green yet. Just tinged, like someone had brushed color across it too lightly, testing it.
Daniel stumbled backward.
"Aria," he said hoarsely. "We have to leave. Now."
She followed his gaze and frowned. "It looks the same."
"No," he whispered. "It doesn't."
The pressure exploded outward, filling the street. Sound dulled instantly, like cotton stuffed into his ears. Conversations cut off mid sentence. Engines fell silent.
Elior looked around in panic.
People stood frozen, mouths open, eyes lifted toward the sky as the color deepened, spreading like ink through water. Green light bled outward, unnatural and cold, casting sharp shadows where none should exist.
Heat followed.
Not flames. Not fire. Just heat that pressed against skin and lungs, making every breath feel heavy and wrong.
"This is it," Daniel said.
Aria grabbed his arm. "Elior, what's happening?"
He did not answer. He was staring at the pavement beneath his feet.
He recognized the crack running through it. The small oil stain shaped like a crescent moon. The chipped corner of the curb.
This was the place.
"This is where I was standing," he said faintly.
The realization hit him with devastating clarity.
It did not matter which streets he avoided. It did not matter how long he stayed inside. It did not matter how carefully he chose.
Every choice curved back here.
"I didn't mean to," he said, voice breaking. "I tried not to."
Aria shook him. "Elior, look at me."
He did.
Fear filled her eyes, raw and unfiltered. She did not understand, but she trusted him anyway.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I thought I could change it."
The pressure reached its peak.
The green sky burned brighter, light without brightness, heat without flame. The world seemed to fold inward, collapsing toward the point where Elior stood.
The last thing he felt was the certainty of it.
This was not coincidence.
And then everything ended.