Cassandra watched the last cart cross into Forest Hidden without her. The loose wheel held. Its owner pulled the cart several more meters before an academy worker took one handle and helped guide it around a root. Neither glanced back toward the boundary, and Cassandra could not blame them. The Sairren had spent enough time arranging their choices around her decisions.
Inside the academy, families waited beside the registration tables. Children wandered until someone called them back. Two builders were already arguing with a Sairren artisan about whether an unfinished landing platform could support the weight of her tool chest. The busy, unfinished district suited Cassandra. Whenever people called a place paradise, they usually skipped the cost, maintenance, and rules that kept it running.
The black marker beneath her name remained unchanged.
[Condemned.]
