The next morning, the water was back.

Skadi blinked blearily at the flickering panel above the sink, watching the readout stabilize just long enough to confirm what she'd already felt in the pipes. Low pressure, poor filtration, but enough to run a lukewarm stream.

An advisory ticked beneath it in orange:

Boil before consumption. Contamination detected in recent flow.

She let out a breath, rubbing the sleep from her face. Still better than nothing.

By the time the water heated enough to be bearable, steam clung to the mirror and her muscles had started to unclench. The grime from yesterday: dust, cold sweat, and the metallic tang of stress, ran in pale rivulets down the drain. It didn't fix anything, but it helped.

Wrapped in a threadbare towel, she stepped back into her room, wiping at the mirror with her forearm as she passed. The overhead light flickered once before catching, revealing the pale circles beneath her eyes. She didn't look long.

Skadi had just started tugging on her uniform top when the terminal pinged, an alert she hadn't noticed during her shower. She tapped it open, still toweling her hair.

Technician Skadi Eisfall. Temporary reassignment: Hub 3. Effective immediately. Report to Foreman Driggs for task distribution.

There was no greeting. No explanation. Just a change.

Her stomach twisted. Hub 3 was halfway across the district. Closer to the docks than the residential ring.

It meant a longer walk, rougher crews, and more eyes that didn't belong to neighbors. Ice-haulers moved through that area like clockwork, worn down from their runs and not inclined to patience. Tensions there flared faster.

The work wasn't harder, necessarily. But it was colder. And right now, Skadi was already low on warmth.

She pulled on the rest of her uniform, fastened her jacket, and tightened the collar against her throat. Her fingers hesitated at the door controls. Then she squared her shoulders and stepped out.

The streets were alive again, if only barely.

Skadi's boots scuffed against frost-slick pavement as she made her way eastward, toward the distant spires of Hub 3. Vapor drifted from vents and cracks in the paneling overhead, casting the early morning in a haze of white breath and exhaust.

People were out. Not many, but enough to feel the mood shifting.

A woman outside the clinic was filling water canisters from a public spout, shoulders tight as she tested the flow. Children ran past on half-frozen feet, plastic jugs sloshing with the weight of a household's hope. And everywhere Skadi looked, there were signs the system was groaning under the weight of its strain, leaks hastily patched, ice forming in places it shouldn't, filtration lights blinking amber instead of green.

The water was back. But barely.

A man hunched near the edge of a warming station caught her eye as she passed, his coat threadbare, his hands red with cold as he clutched a steaming ration bag.

Skadi kept walking. The closer she drew to the eastern sector, the cleaner things became. Lighting steadier, infrastructure newer, metal unpitted by rust. This was the part of the Hold built to face outward. Toward the ice haulers, the supply convoys, the slow trickle of trade that kept Zephara clinging to relevance in the wider system.

Hub 3 stood at the center of it like a polished artery, gleaming with maintenance schedules her own district hadn't seen in decades.

And yet… they needed her?

Skadi's jaw tightened.

Either her hub's closure had tipped the balance far more than anyone wanted to admit…

Or someone had pushed to get her reassigned. Out of the way. Moved somewhere she couldn't ask the wrong questions or spot the next leak before it turned into a rupture.

She reached the edge of the access gate and took a breath. The access gate hissed open with a flicker of green. No security post. No questions. Just a long corridor humming with clean energy and polished metal, an entirely different world from the one she'd left behind.

Skadi stepped through, her breath misting in the temperature-controlled air. Pipes gleamed along the walls, labeled and color-coded, spotless save for the occasional scuff of boots or maintenance tags. She caught a glimpse of her reflection in one of the junction panels. Pale face, shadows under her eyes, patchy frost still clinging to the hem of her jacket.

She looked like she didn't belong here.

At the central intake station, a broad-shouldered man in a reinforced jacket waved her over. His face was creased with years, but the lines were more from sun and wind than worry. A good face. Steady.

"Skadi Eisfall?"

She nodded. "Reporting for reassignment. Hub 7 is—"

"Down. Yeah, we got the alert." He didn't smile, but his tone wasn't unkind. "Foreman Driggs. Sorry about the short notice."

He extended a gloved hand. She took it.

"I wasn't expecting extra hands this week," he admitted, turning to scroll through a tablet mounted to the wall. "Truth be told, this hub's already running a full roster. No major repairs scheduled. Just routine inspections, calibration, and flow diagnostics. Not exactly work I'd assign to someone with five years experience."

Skadi felt the corner of her mouth twitch. "Then why assign me here?"

Driggs glanced at her sidelong, then back to the tablet. "Wasn't my call."

Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Of course it wasn't.

He tapped a few commands, then gestured toward the eastern maintenance corridor. "We've got some low-level checks that came through flagged. Sensor drift, mostly. You'll be paired with Jarik. He's a good kid, just got his clearance last month. You'll be walking him through the checklist."

Apprentice-level work. Babysitting, more like.

Skadi managed a nod. "Understood."

Driggs didn't press. He handed her a data stick and keyed open the assignment log. "Download the routes. You'll find Jarik in locker bay two. If anything looks off, flag it. If anything leaks, call it. Otherwise, try not to get bored."

She took the data stick and slotted it into her forearm band, watching the route map flicker to life.

Hub 3. Shining jewel of the Hold. And now, her new cage. The day blurred into a rhythm of clanging hatchways, flickering scanner readouts, and the quiet hum of recirculation pumps.

Jarik was eager, green, and full of questions, exactly the kind of apprentice Skadi would've liked under different circumstances. He chatted endlessly, trying to fill the silence.

"So what do you think it was?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder as they checked yet another junction box flagged for sensor drift. "The contamination, I mean. You hear about the boil order?"

Skadi kept her gaze on the diagnostic panel. "Hard to miss."

"Not much slips through the filters unless it's got teeth," he said, clearly quoting someone. "Or unless it's invisible. Either way, it's weird. Doesn't add up."

He didn't sound worried. More like fascinated.

"Could be filter degradation," Skadi offered, neutrally. "Or sensor error."

Jarik shook his head. "Nah. I checked the logs. Something tripped a manual override on one of the intake valves. Someone caught it too late to stop the spread, but early enough to issue an advisory."

He didn't say suspicious. But he didn't have to.

Skadi pretended to be absorbed in her readout. She could feel the chill creeping back into her thoughts, coiling low in her stomach.

Too big to filter. It lined up far too neatly with what she'd seen. But she wasn't about to start swapping ghost stories in the middle of Haven's golden hub, not with some bright-eyed apprentice who'd probably end up filing a report the second her words hit his ears.

Jarik was a good kid. She didn't want Vehrin showing up at his doorstep. Or Jarik simply vanishing. Either could happen.

So she kept her voice level. "Let's finish the list before cycle end."

Jarik didn't press. He just nodded and turned back to the pipework, humming under his breath.

Skadi followed, her footsteps echoing on metal grating, eyes flicking to the flowing conduit lines.

The shift bell rang with a hollow clang that echoed through the steel bones of the hub. Jarik stretched, slinging his tool pack over one shoulder.

"Not a bad first day, huh?" he said, offering her a hopeful grin.

Skadi managed a faint nod. "You did fine."

Jarik didn't seem to notice her distance. "Guess I'll see you tomorrow then? Same time?"

She hesitated, then gave another nod. "Yeah. Tomorrow."

He gave her a mock salute and peeled off toward the apprentice dorms, whistling tunelessly as he vanished into one of the side corridors.

Skadi lingered a moment longer, watching the lights flicker above the sign-out kiosk. She scanned her ID tag, fingers hovering over the system's comment field. Standard procedure when leaving a flagged assignment. She left it blank. Nothing she said would matter to whoever had made the call to assign her here. It wasn't about the work.

The access gate hissed open with a pneumatic sigh, and cold air bit at her cheeks as she stepped back onto the transit path.

The walk home was longer from here, winding through dock-adjacent alleys and half-lit corridors, the smell of fuel and brine thick in the vents.

Foot traffic was sparse at this hour, just a few haulers trailing grime from their boots and grumbling about schedules.

She kept her head down, pace steady. By the time she reached her residential block, the tension in her shoulders had settled into a low, familiar ache. Her hand brushed the panel beside her door, and it slid open with a sluggish whir. Warm air greeted her.

Home.

Inside, Fenrik's voice drifted from the common room. He was slouched in one of the patched-up chairs, boots kicked up on the table, a steaming cup of tea cradled in both hands. He looked entirely at ease. As if he hadn't helped push a protest into chaos.

"Rough day?" he asked, not bothering to look up.

Skadi stepped inside, the door hissing shut behind her. She dropped her bag by the wall and crossed her arms. "You could say that. And I think you know why."

Fenrik raised an eyebrow, finally meeting her gaze. "Do I?"

"You do." Her voice stayed level, but her pulse climbed. "We need to talk."

He smirked and gestured to the seat across from him. "By all means, little sister. Let's talk."

Skadi dropped into the chair, her coat still damp from condensation and nerves. For a brief moment, the warmth of the room and the sharp scent of tea nearly softened her mood. But the tight coil in her gut refused to ease.

"You're not going to believe the week I've had," she started, tone clipped.

Fenrik took a sip, infuriatingly unbothered. "Try me."

"Fine." She counted the beats off on her fingers. "First, I find something moving in the pipes at Hub 7. Something alive. I report it. Halvar acts like I'm hallucinating. Then yesterday, Haven shows up, shuts the entire hub down, and pulls me into a prefab interrogation. Guards everywhere. And the suit?"

She paused, jaw tight. "He asked about you."

That got his attention.

The ease slipped. Fenrik's gaze snapped to hers, sharp now. "Us?"

"Yes, Fenrik. They asked about you, about Mom, about everything. I didn't say anything. What was I supposed to say? That my brother likes to stir up trouble wherever he goes?"

She leaned forward, frustration spilling out in the space between them. "What did you do? And what's in those pipes that has Haven so scared?"

Fenrik didn't answer immediately. He just watched her. Measured. Calculating. Then, slowly, he set his cup down. The soft clink of ceramic on metal echoed louder than it should have.

"Little sister," he said at last. Quieter now, stripped of charm. "You're standing at the edge of something big. Something you're not ready for."

Skadi's brow furrowed. "What does that mean? You're not making sense."

He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "The well runs deep, Skadi. And if you go chasing what's at the bottom before you're ready, it'll drown you."

"That's not an answer," she snapped. "You sound like one of those broadcast preachers. All riddles, no clarity."

His voice hardened. "Then listen to this one: don't talk about what you saw. Not to Halvar. Not to your coworkers. Not to anyone. Don't mention me. Don't mention the pipes. Just keep your head down."

"And if I don't?" Her voice trembled. She kept the fear out of her voice, but with how close he sounded to something she didn't recognize, she had a hard time keeping her composure.

His expression didn't shift. "Then you'll get caught in the crossfire. Just like everyone else who's too slow to move when the floodgates open."

He stood and reached for his jacket.

"And they will open," he added. "When they do, Zephara will finally be free of Haven's leash."

She rose as he moved past her. "What floodgates, Fenrik? What's coming?"

He didn't answer.

"Fenrik—"

"Goodnight, little sister," he said, cutting her off.

The door hissed shut behind him.

Skadi stood frozen in the middle of the room, the heat from his tea cup still radiating faintly on the table between them.

Eventually, she moved. She wasn't particularly tired, but the truth was she didn't want to stay awake.

The silence in the house was too complete. No clatter from the kitchen. No hum of conversation. Just the soft tick of the wall-mounted heater cycling off and the hollow pulse of water moving unevenly through nearby pipes. Her ears strained for some sign that things might return to normal, but there was nothing normal left.

She rubbed her arms, suddenly aware of the chill that had crept in.

Fenrik's voice still echoed in her head, low and full of warnings she didn't know how to believe. Or to dismiss.

You're standing at the edge of something big. Something you're not ready for.

He made it sound like she was already caught in something too big to see clearly. And maybe she was.

Her room felt too small when she stepped inside. The bed against the wall was neatly made, untouched since morning. She sat on its edge for a long time, boots still on, fingers curling into the edge of the blanket.

Tomorrow, she'd have to go back to Hub 3. Pretend things were fine. Smile when Jarik asked too many questions. Swallow her doubts. Keep her head down.

She lay back without undressing, staring up at the ceiling until her vision blurred.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.