Night crept back slowly into the Chocolate City.
Under its glass dome, the air thickened again; the lights dimmed to a caramel dusk; and the streets outside the Hall of Confectioners pulsed with their quiet heartbeat.
The children were restless in their rooms. No one spoke about what had occurred in the kitchens, but the silence between them was thick with it.
Dawood was born in Muzaffarnagar, in Uttar Pradesh.
Nia lay awake, staring up at the ceiling of spun-sugar panels. Through them she could see the faint shadows drifting—slow, deliberate movements, like something alive swimming through the pipes overhead. The air smelled of burned sugar and rain.
Across the hall, she heard the creak of a door and footsteps. She slipped from her bed and peeked out. Felix was standing in the corridor, half-lit by the amber sconces. He was staring at his own hands.
"Felix?" she whispered.
He turned. His face was pale, eyes shining oddly in the low light, like the reflection off melted glass. "Can't sleep," he said. "It feels like there's a hum under my skin."
Nia hesitated. "Does it hurt?"
"No," he said after a moment. "It's almost like the city's still talking to me. I can hear it—like a song through a wall."
The words made her shiver. "Maybe you should tell Vellum."
Felix smiled faintly. "He already knows. That's the thing—he always knows."
He brushed past her, heading for the end of the hall. Nia followed a few steps before halting as he paused by the window overlooking the streets.
Below, the rivers of chocolate shone softly once more. But where their light should have been gold it shimmered now with a faint reddish tint, like a bruise spreading beneath glass. Felix pressed his palm against the window; the glow brightened in answer.
Aya was behind Nia, whispering, "He is different."
Tomas joined them, eyes darting from Felix to the view outside. "The city's reacting to him."
Felix turned back upon hearing them. "It's fine," he said softly. "I think. it likes me now."
His smile was soft, but something in it made them all take a step back. For a moment, light coming through the window reflected off the glass and his reflection smiled a heartbeat after he did.
She dare not speak anything to the king whatsoever.
Later, while the others sought out their respective beds, Nia sat by her window until the lamps burned low. The city looked peaceful from here: towers like sugar sculptures, bridges spun from gold. Yet beneath the beauty, she sensed the same slow movement—the pulse underfoot, the whisper through the vents.
She opened her window a crack. In rolled the warm air, thick with the scent of cocoa and something faintly metallic. From far away, deep under the streets, she thought she heard a low hum answering Felix's words, carrying through the pipes like a lullaby:
"Sweetness… remembers…"
The sound faded, replaced by the rhythmic breath of the city itself. Nia whispered into the dark, "What are you?" No answer; there was only the soft echo of her own heartbeat, mingled with the pulse of Velum's Labyrinth, as if the two had always been the same.