The Chocolate City did not wake.
It stirred.
Before the dawn, a strange quiet swept over the streets—a silence that muffled the hum of the machines, the steady flow of the syrup rivers. The atmosphere was thick, as if the sweetness had turned to curd. In their sleeping quarters, Nia was the first to wake.
Something had changed.
The light shining through her window was not right - it was not golden, but pale, as if the color had been leached out. She sat up, the sheets stuck to her skin in a sticky residue. The scent of something burnt lingered in the air. In the silence, she could swear she heard it - the hum, the whisper of countless voices echoing the same phrase in the depths of the floor.
"Remember"
She swung her legs over the bed, the cold marble cooling her feet. But in the other part of the room, the sugar clock, where the tick-tock of the cocoa beans was always so steady, was silent. The hands of the sugar clock were stuck at 4:04.
She leant over to touch it, the second hand twitched once, backward.
The voice of Aya was softly heard from the doorway. "You heard it too."
Nia turned. Aya's hair was wild, her eyes wide and dark. In her hands was a lantern fashioned from glass sugar, its flame casting a blue light, rather than the gold that was usual.
"What time is it?" Nia asked.
"Too early," Aya replied. "But the city's awake," he continued.
They entered the hallway. The lights above flickered, casting long, syrupy shadows that throbbed in time to the rhythm of the city. The corridor was filled with the hint of smoke. In the distance, the clang of machinery ceased, as if a cough was stifled.
They went by Felix's room. The door was slightly open.
"Felix?" Aya
No answer.
He pushed the door open. The bed was empty, the sheets untouched. On the pillow rested a small, round, shining chocolate coin. On its surface was pressed an imprint, in the shape of his name, in curling script. Someone, something, had put it there.
The back of the coin was wet, as if it had just been produced.
They found Tomas in the common hall, his eyes fixed upon one of the tall windows that looked out over the city. He didn't turn as they came near.
"Where is everyone?" asked Nia.
He raised a shaky finger, pointing.
The streets were empty, empty as could be. The stalls of the Festival were still there, half in ruins, the sugar flags rigid with dew. The syrup canals were no longer aglow, but rather black and sluggish, mirroring the light that filtered from the dome overhead. The mechanical birds were also motionless, suspended in mid-air like decorations.
'It was as if the whole city had come to a halt,' Tomas whispered
Aya frowned. "No. It's listening."
A noise interrupted the silence - the rhythmic sound of a click, click, click echoing through the corridor behind them. The three of them turned.
Felix stood there.
But something was not quite right about him. His clothes were impeccable, too neat. His skin shone as if dusted with sugar. His eyes glittered slightly, not from reflection but from an inner, reddish pulse that resonated to the hum of the city.
"Felix?" asked Nia cautiously
He smiled, slowly, serenely. "You shouldn't worry," he said. "Vellum says the city is changing. That it's just… remembering how to dream."
Aya drew near. "Where were you?"
He cocked his head. "Below. I wanted to know what it means to be remembered."
Tomas swallowed. "And did you?"
But Felix didn't change expression. "I think I do, now."
He reached into his pocket and produced something - another coin, just like the one he'd found in his pillow. He pressed it into Nia's palm.
The surface was still warm.
FELIX MOREAU, it read
On the other side, in smaller letters:
A returned gift.
Before anyone could say anything, the city shook.
It was no earthquake, because it was too deliberate, too alive. The walls vibrated as if something massive had breathed deeply beneath them. The dust rained in fine sugar trails from the ceiling. The lights flickered briefly, then steadied, shining brighter than before.
And somewhere, far off, a bell sounded.
Once.
Then again.
Every note was resonant, like the hum in the core of a vibrating body. Tomas put his hands over his ears. "What's that?"
Felix's smile grew even broader. "The heart of the city," he said. "It's awakening."
Vellum appeared at the end of the hall, his coat shining like a blade in the light. He was calm, but his eyes were in the shadows.
"You've all felt it," he said.
"Good. Then you understand the importance of what happens next."
Aya's voice was tense. "What's going on in the city?"
Vellum regarded her. "Balance. The sweetness must turn sour before it can be pure again. It is the cycle upon which we founded this place. But something has caused it to speed up."
His eyes wandered to Felix. "Someone."
Felix didn't move. "You told us to taste," he whispered. "You told us to explore."
"Yes," Vellum said. "But not the Bitter District. That place was supposed to sleep."
"And now it's awake," Nia said.
Vellum nodded once. "And so must you," he said.
He gazed off towards the window, where the first pale light of morning was striking the glass dome. "There are some things beneath this city that even I do not control. If the Bittering has begun, then the Festival is nothing but a diversion. The true work has just begun."
The bell clanged again, this time longer, the vibration echoing through every stone, every pipe, every piece of bone in her body. And beneath the sound, just for an instant, Nia heard the whisper:
"Remember me."
She shifted her gaze towards the window - and for a fleeting moment, she could swear she saw faces in the reflection. Dozens of them. Smiling at her. And made of chocolate.