Inkaris did not explain immediately.
That alone unsettled Aiden more than Caelum's smile had.
They had retreated from the warehouse district to a quieter stretch of the undercity, far enough that the city's noise dulled into a distant, aching hum. No one spoke for several minutes. Liora paced. Seris had already excused herself with a tight nod, promising to find Aureline before rumors hardened into policy.
Aiden finally broke.
"He called himself an angel," Aiden said quietly. "You didn't deny it."
Inkaris leaned against a stone column, arms folded, expression carved from restraint. "Because denying it would have been dishonest."
Liora stopped pacing. "Then say it. All of it."
Inkaris studied them both for a long moment — not weighing trust, but consequence.
"Caelum is a fallen angel," he said at last. "And a wish granter."
The words landed differently now.
Not abstract. Not distant.
Personal.
"A fallen angel," Aiden echoed. "Like… cast out?"
"Yes," Inkaris replied. "Though 'cast out' implies consensus. The heavens rarely agree on anything."
Liora's brow furrowed. "And he grants wishes like we do?"
"In function," Inkaris said. "Not in philosophy."
Aiden's stomach twisted. "He did this because someone asked?"
"Yes."
"And he enjoyed it."
Inkaris nodded once. "That is the difference."
Liora hugged herself. "Why is he allowed to do that?"
Inkaris' gaze hardened. "Because wish granting is not moral. It is structural. The universe does not care why desire is fulfilled — only that it is acknowledged."
Aiden looked away. "So he's like us… if we stopped caring."
Inkaris did not correct him.
"That," he said quietly, "is why he frightens Aureline."
---
Seris found the Duchess in a sealed chamber beneath the palace — one of the old ones, carved before the city had a name, lined with sigils meant to discourage attention.
Aureline stood at the center, hands braced against a stone table etched with faded symbols.
"You shouldn't be here," Aureline said without turning.
"I know," Seris replied. "I'm not asking for a position."
Aureline glanced at her sharply. "Then what are you asking for?"
"Permission to help," Seris said. "Without obligation. Without seals."
Aureline laughed — a short, humorless sound. "You want to assist the city without protection or authority?"
Seris met her gaze. "I want to keep it from breaking while you decide how far you're willing to go."
That made Aureline still.
"You saw him," Aureline said quietly. "Caelum."
"Yes."
"And you stayed."
"Yes."
Aureline exhaled slowly. "Then you understand the scale of the problem."
Seris nodded. "And I understand that if you invoke the old protections alone, Varros will tear you apart politically."
Aureline's eyes narrowed. "You know about those."
"I know of them," Seris replied. "And I know they're meant for cities on the brink."
Aureline turned back to the table, tracing one of the sigils with her finger. "They were sworn never to be used lightly."
Seris stepped closer. "Then don't use them lightly. Use them carefully."
Silence stretched.
"You're not bound to me," Aureline said. "Why risk this?"
Seris didn't hesitate. "Because Aiden is going to be blamed no matter what. And because if Caelum is interested, this city matters more than its politics."
Aureline studied her for a long moment.
"Very well," she said at last. "You may advise. Quietly."
Seris inclined her head. "That's all I wanted."
---
Varros, meanwhile, was having the time of his life.
He hosted Caelum not with ritual or reverence, but with wine, music, and a view of the city that glittered like something fragile.
"My dear angel," Varros said smoothly, lifting his glass. "I had no idea you were a patron of civic engagement."
Caelum reclined opposite him, examining the wine with amused curiosity. "I'm not. I'm a patron of momentum."
Varros laughed. "Ah. Then we are aligned."
He gestured expansively. "Look at them scramble. The Duchess invoking ancient fears. The boy turning himself into a symbol. Halvren collapsing under borrowed weight."
Caelum smiled. "You enjoy this."
Varros didn't deny it. "I enjoy honesty. You stripped the city of its excuses."
Caelum's eyes glittered. "And you?"
Varros leaned forward. "I strip people of their illusions."
A pause.
"You want my favor," Caelum said.
Varros' smile sharpened. "I want… understanding. I don't need your power. I need to know where not to stand."
Caelum laughed softly. "How prudent."
"And?" Varros pressed.
Caelum considered him. "You are interesting," he said at last. "But you mistake survival for supremacy."
Varros raised his glass anyway. "I've always lived longer than expected."
Caelum clinked his glass lightly. "So have disasters."
They drank.
Neither trusted the other.
Both enjoyed that.
---
Halvren, across the city, raged.
"This isn't my fault!" he shouted, slamming his hand against a marble table. "Varros manipulated me!"
His aides exchanged wary looks.
"You asked for power," one said carefully.
"I asked for support!"
"And you got it."
Halvren turned, eyes wild. "Then why am I drowning?"
No one answered.
Because incompetence rarely recognized its reflection.
---
Back in the undercity, Aiden sat with his back against the wall, staring at his hands.
"So he's what happens when a wish granter stops pretending to be human," he said.
Inkaris shook his head. "No. He's what happens when a wish granter stops pretending others matter."
Liora's voice was tight. "Is that our future?"
"No," Inkaris said firmly. "Because you still feel sick about what happened today."
Aiden looked up. "That's supposed to be comforting?"
"It is," Inkaris replied. "It means you're resisting your nature instead of indulging it."
Aiden swallowed. "He called me honest."
Inkaris met his gaze. "He was not complimenting you. He was identifying leverage."
Aiden's chest tightened. "Then what do I do?"
Inkaris didn't answer immediately.
"You learn," he said finally, "that some beings cannot be stopped by confrontation. Only by denying them interesting outcomes."
Liora frowned. "You mean… don't play."
Inkaris nodded. "Precisely."
Aiden let out a shaky breath. "That sounds impossible."
Inkaris' expression softened — just slightly. "Most worthwhile things do."
---
Above the city, ancient sigils stirred — not activated, not yet, but remembered.
Aureline stood alone before them, Seris' words echoing in her mind.
Carefully.
Varros plotted with a smile.
Halvren grasped at blame.
Caelum watched them all, wings folded, eyes bright with anticipation.
And Aiden — newly informed, newly afraid — finally understood the truth that would shape everything to come:
Wish granters did not decide the world's fate.
They simply revealed how eagerly others reached for it.
---