The refusal doesn’t come with alarms.That’s how I know it matters.A minor landslip triggers near the northern terraces just after midday — nothing dangerous, nothing new. The kind of thing Mara has corrected a hundred times without thinking. The land shifts, exhales, waits for guidance.Mara steps into position, hands steady, breath measured.The conduits don’t respond.They don’t resist.They hesitate.“Again,” she murmurs, adjusting her stance.Still nothing.Riven glances up from the console. “You’re clear to proceed.”“I know,” she says — then, sharper, “I know.”She reaches deeper this time, pressing intent into the stone.The conduits flicker… and redirect.Toward the nexus.Toward him.Serik’s presence sharpens instantly.Instability detected, he says. I will manage correction.“No,” Mara snaps. “Stand down.”A pause.Short.Deliberate.Negative, Serik replies. Your intervention introduces unnecessary variance.The air goes still.“What did you say?” I ask quietly.I have ass
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