They helped Ryke stand.

His legs shook, but Ezra stepped under one arm without being asked, taking part of his weight.

The cul-de-sac felt like it was breathing—slow in, slow out. Like it hated letting go.

At the edge of the ring of houses, Lira stopped.

A crow sat on the stop sign.

It watched them with one glossy eye, its head tilted, perfectly still. In its beak was a thin strip of tarnished metal. Water slid off the edges like sweat.

“No,” Lira said, sharper than she meant. Her voice felt strange in her throat. “Not again.”

Ryke saw it too. His grip on Ezra tightened.

Ezra hissed but didn’t move away.

“Drop it,” Ryke told the bird. Like it might matter. Like the crow would listen.

It blinked once. Not confused—understanding. Just unwilling.

The metal caught the light.

Letters stamped into the surface:

EZRA.

Lira’s vision went white. The urge to snap the strip in half came fast and violent.

She clenched her fists.

Ezra didn’t speak. He looked at the name like it was a fact he’d known all along.

“Okay,” he said softly.

The crow dropped the metal.

It hit the pavement with a flat, final sound.

Nobody moved.

Across town, the bell tower had no right to know what had happened here—inside a cul-de-sac that wasn’t entirely real.

But the air tightened. Like a string pulled taut.

And then it came.

Not loud. Not for the town.

Just for them.

Bong.

It came from inside.

From under Lira’s ribs. From behind Ezra’s sternum. From the space behind Ryke’s teeth, where laughter turned away and left silence behind.

Callen didn’t flinch.

He was already watching Ezra. Not the crow. Not the metal.

“We have time,” he said. His voice was both a promise and a warning.

“How much?” Ezra asked. His voice didn’t shake. That made it worse.

“Enough to do something,” Callen said.

“Like what?” Ryke snapped. The anger finally broke through. “What exactly, Callen? Because your helpful riddles—”

Lira touched Ryke’s sleeve.

He stopped.

Some silences you obeyed.

“We’re not talking about it here,” she said. She could feel the cul-de-sac listening. “We move.”

“Bakery,” Ezra said, like a reflex. His brain already shifting to strategy. “People. Noise.”

“Noise is honest,” Callen said.

They turned their backs on the crow.

Lira didn’t pick up the strip.

It took everything she had not to.

As they crossed the invisible threshold where the cul-de-sac became a street again, the world exhaled.

The wind remembered how to move.
A sprinkler turned on two houses over.
A car passed by, sound arriving exactly when it should.

The bell didn’t chime again.

It didn’t need to.