The first failure did not announce itself.

It did not shatter a ward or plunge a district into darkness. It arrived as a delay—barely a breath too long—between intention and response. A pause so slight it could be mistaken for human error. A hesitation small enough to be forgiven.

Most people never noticed.

In the southern quarter, a streetlamp hesitated before brightening, its glow stuttering like a thought interrupted. A baker’s heat rune flared unevenly, scorching one side of a loaf ...