The Bridge wasn't just a way across the river; it was the city's main power conduit. If it went "unstable," Oakhaven wouldn't just be dark—it would literally start to unspool.

But for Elias, a "Fixer," instability was a profession. He carried a heavy brass stabilizer on his belt—a device designed to tether local atoms back to their intended coordinates.

Elias watched as his coffee cup began to . Not the liquid inside, but the ceramic itself. One moment it was a solid, matte blue; the next, it was translucent, flickering like a dying lightbulb. He reached out to steady it, but his fingers passed straight through the handle.

The humming started in the kitchen. It wasn’t the low thrum of the refrigerator or the whistle of a distant train. It was a sound that vibrated in the teeth—a frequency that felt like glass about to shatter.