Aiden wasn't sure if it was the air or the light that was playing tricks on him, but the city felt… alive.
As the team walked through the Lythari capital, the streets adjusted beneath their feet, shifting slightly to guide their steps. The buildings themselves weren't static; they pulsed, as if inhaling and exhaling in slow rhythm. Colors rippled across their surfaces in response to movement, and Aiden swore he could hear something—whispers, maybe, or the echo of the city's own heartbeat.
Mira glanced around, her brow furrowed. "Tell me I'm not the only one noticing this."
Dr. Vega, ever the scientist, was already scanning the walls with a handheld device. "The structures are semi-organic. They're reacting to our presence."
Aiden touched the smooth, glass-like surface of a nearby wall. Instantly, a ripple of gold light spread outward. He pulled his hand back. "That's either really cool or really unsettling."
"Both," Mira muttered.
Sira, who had been walking ahead in her usual silent grace, turned to face them. The patterns of light in her translucent form dimmed slightly, signaling what Aiden was beginning to recognize as patience wearing thin.
"This city is not an object," Sira said. "It is a living construct, designed to adapt and evolve."
Mira crossed her arms. "You mean it's sentient?"
Sira tilted her head. "Sentience is a flawed human concept. The city does not think—it responds. It was designed to maintain harmony."
"Harmony," Aiden repeated. He gestured toward a towering structure in the distance, its spires spiraling impossibly into the sky. "And that? What's the purpose of a gravity-defying skyscraper?"
Sira followed his gaze. "It breathes."
Aiden blinked. "I… sorry, what?"
"The city cycles energy, just as your bodies cycle air," Sira explained. "The structures regulate balance. It is a perfect system."
Mira shot Aiden a look. "So… they built an entire city that works like a giant, glowing lung?"
"More like a nervous system," Dr. Vega mused. "If this place is truly interconnected, then every piece of it serves a function."
Aiden turned back to the shifting streets, the walls that pulsed, the distant hum in the air. "And what happens," he asked slowly, "if something disrupts the system?"
Sira's glow flickered. Just for a second.
"There is no disruption," she said smoothly. "The city corrects itself."
"Right," Mira muttered. "Because that doesn't sound ominous at all."
Aiden wasn't sure what it was—Sira's tone, the flicker of her light, or the way the city itself seemed to hold its breath in that moment—but something felt off.
And for the first time since arriving, Aiden wondered if the city wasn't just alive.
It was watching them.