The response was immediate.
The stone beneath Ira's hand cooled sharply. A subtle pressure pressed back against her awareness — firm, contained, unmistakably present.
The city was not listening.
It was responding.
Her breath caught.
The heaviness in her chest gathered, tightening into a focused point. She did not push.
She stayed.
She let her awareness rest against the resistance, the way one might lean into a closed door and feel its strength.
The space around them deepened.
Devansh felt it first in the deeper layers of the city — a tightening of old alignments, a cautious recalibration.
"She's engaging a primary structure," he said quietly.
Rehaan, who had followed at a distance, stiffened. "That's not a corridor or a system," he said. "That's foundation."
Ira's eyes remained closed.
Inside her, sensation layered.
She felt the city's preservation instinct — the ancient preference for containment over change. The agreement to endure rather than risk. The fear of movement disguised as stability.
Her breath slowed.
She did not argue.
She did not dismantle.
She brought something closer.
She let the awareness of Meera rise — not the girl herself, but the fragility of her presence here. The human misplacement. The way her fear had entered a city that had never learned how to send anyone back.
The resistance did not vanish.
But it… shifted.
The pressure altered, no longer uniform.
A seam of possibility traced faintly through it.
Ira's fingers curled against the stone.
She leaned.
The heaviness in her chest aligned with the seam.
And for the first time since she had touched the city, something pressed back hard enough that she felt it in her body.
A sharp constriction spread through her ribs.
She gasped softly.
Devansh moved to her side instantly.
"Ira—"
"I'm all right," she whispered.
But her breath was unsteady.
The city's resistance deepened, not violently, but insistently.
It did not want to yield.
And in that moment, Ira understood something with quiet clarity.
The city was not opposing her power.
It was protecting its fear.
She opened her eyes.
"I'm not here to take what you built," she said aloud.
The chamber held its tension.
"I'm here to let it finish."
The pressure wavered.
And somewhere far above them, stone shifted with a sound too deep to echo.