Lucen sat with the notebook open in his lap, the paper spotted faintly where rain had once touched the edge.
His fingers hovered over the page, still slightly raw from earlier casts. The ink-stain on his thumb made a soft dot near the margin as he pressed it down absentmindedly.
The street around him was quiet now, low-volume traffic, shoes on concrete, the occasional grind of a hover platform moving crates too large to walk with. No voices nearby. The only crowd was inside his head.
He closed his eyes for a second.
Let the city fade.
And replayed Varik's voice.
"Design something that breaks line of sight. Disorients tracking. Not invisibility. Not glamor. A real vanish. One that punishes pursuit."
Lucen exhaled through his nose.
Then started drawing.
Not a spell.
Not yet.
Just shapes.
