Chapter 12: The Things You Can’t Test

Kaelira Voss did not like unanswered questions.
She could ignore them, set them aside, pretend they didn’t matter—but only for so long. Eventually, they settled somewhere in the back of her mind and refused to stay quiet.
The shard was one of them.
Riven was another.

On the first day after she started asking about him, Kael decided to occupy her time with something she could control.
The shard.
It was still wrapped carefully in her bag, untouched since the last time she had examined it. She took it out early that morning, before the market fully came alive, placing it on the table in front of her like any other item.
At a glance, it hadn’t changed.
Same dark surface. Same strange, almost-absence of reflection. Same weight—or lack of it.
Kael picked it up and turned it slowly between her fingers, watching how it reacted to light, to movement, to the slightest shift in angle.
Nothing.

She started with the obvious.
Pressure.
Not enough to break it, just enough to test resistance. It didn’t bend, didn’t flex, didn’t react at all. It simply… remained.
She pressed harder.
Still nothing.
Kael stopped there.
Breaking it would answer nothing.

Next came contact.
She tapped it lightly against the wooden edge of her stall. No sound beyond the expected dull touch. No vibration, no shift in texture, no change in temperature.
She placed it against metal—one of the more stable pieces she had set aside. No reaction. No interference.
She even held it against a vial of water, watching for any distortion, any ripple, any sign that it affected what it touched.
Nothing.

“…You’re unhelpful,” she muttered under her breath.
The shard, unsurprisingly, did not respond.

By midday, she had tried everything she could think of that didn’t involve damaging it.
And by evening, she had learned exactly one thing.
It did nothing she could observe.

That should have been reassuring.
It wasn’t.

On the second day, she tried again.
Different approach. Same methods, just… adjusted. She varied the pressure, the angles, the duration. She left it exposed to sunlight for longer, then moved it into shade, then into the cooler interior space behind her stall.
Still nothing.
No change.
No reaction.
No explanation.

By the end of the second day, Kael set the shard down with more force than necessary, though still controlled enough not to damage it.
“…Fine,” she said quietly.
Because there was a limit.
A clear one.

Kael did not go into the Tower.
That wasn’t just a preference. It was a boundary she had built her entire life around. Everything she knew, everything she dealt with, came from outside—from observation, from trade, from understanding how things behaved once they were already removed from their source.
This—
This required something else.
And she wasn’t going to risk it.

So she wrapped the shard again.
Carefully.
And set it aside.

That should have been the end of it.
For now.

It wasn’t.

Because Riven still hadn’t come back.

By the third day, Kael stopped pretending it was just a delay.
She didn’t say it.
Didn’t admit it out loud.
But it was there, in the way her patience wore thinner, in the way her responses became shorter, sharper, less tolerant of anything that wasted her time.
The market noticed.
Of course it did.

“You’re snapping at people,” Dain said, leaning against her stall with the same casual ease he always carried.
“I’m efficient,” Kael replied without looking up.
“That’s not what I said.”
“That’s what I meant.”
Dain watched her for a moment, then exhaled through his nose. “You’ve been asking about him.”
Kael set a bundle aside a little harder than necessary. “I ask about a lot of things.”
“Not for three days straight.”
She didn’t respond.

Lera approached not long after, carrying a small bundle of herbs and the same steady, observant expression she had when something didn’t sit right with her.
“You haven’t seen him either?” she asked, tone light, almost conversational.
Kael shook her head once. “No.”
Lera hummed softly, setting the bundle down. “Strange.”
“Yes,” Kael said.
She didn’t elaborate.
Neither did Lera.

They didn’t need to.
Riven had become… familiar.
Not just to Kael.
To the space around her.
He was there often enough that his absence didn’t go unnoticed, even by people who didn’t pay much attention to anything outside their own trade.

By the fourth day, Kael’s patience had worn thin enough to show.
Not dramatically.
Not loudly.
But in small ways.

“That’s not worth what you’re asking,” a climber said, holding up a piece of metal.
“Then don’t buy it,” Kael replied flatly.
“That’s not how negotiation works.”
“It is today.”
He frowned. “You’re usually more reasonable.”
“I’m usually dealing with better offers.”

The exchange ended quickly.
Most did.
People didn’t push her much.
Not when she sounded like that.

She didn’t mean to direct it at them.
It just… happened.
Because every answer she got was the same.
No one had seen him.
No one knew where he was.
No one had anything useful to say.

By the fifth day, the pattern was clear.
And Kael was done pretending it wasn’t.

The market carried on like it always did, but Kael moved through it differently now. Less patient. Less willing to entertain unnecessary conversation. More focused on finishing transactions quickly and moving on.
Lera and Dain noticed.
They didn’t say much.
But they noticed.

It was near evening when the conversation finally shifted.
Not because Kael asked.
But because someone else brought it to her.

A regular customer—one of the climbers who had been trading with her for months—approached her stall, setting down a small bundle without the usual introduction.
“You’ve been asking about someone,” he said.
Kael glanced up, expression neutral. “I ask about a lot of things.”
“Riven,” he clarified.
She didn’t react immediately.
Just looked at him.
Waiting.

He hesitated slightly, then lowered his voice.
“There’s a rumor,” he said.
Kael’s fingers stilled against the edge of the table.
“…What kind of rumor?”
“Another climber,” he said. “Didn’t come back.”
The words settled slowly.
Carefully.

“Where?” Kael asked.
“Twelfth Floor,” he replied.

Something in her chest tightened.
Not visibly.
Not enough for anyone else to notice.
But enough.

“Name?” she asked.
The climber shook his head. “Not clear. People are saying different things.”
Kael’s gaze didn’t leave his.
“When?”
“Recently. Last few days.”

Last few days.

Five days.

The timing lined up too easily.
Too cleanly.

Kael leaned back slightly, her expression returning to something calm, something controlled.
“Rumors spread fast,” she said.
“They do,” he agreed.
“But they’re not always right.”
“No,” he said. “But they’re not always wrong either.”

A brief silence passed between them.
Then he nodded once and picked up his bundle again.
“That’s all I heard,” he said. “Thought you’d want to know.”
Kael gave a small, almost dismissive nod. “Noted.”

He left without saying anything else.

The market continued around her.
Unchanged.
Unaware.

But Kael didn’t move.
Not immediately.

Twelfth Floor.
Another missing climber.
No name.

Riven had gone to Twelve before.
Recently.
More than once.

Five days.
No sighting.
No word.

Kael exhaled slowly, her fingers tapping once against the table before going still again.

“…It could be anyone,” she murmured.

But the thought had already formed.
Clear.
Unavoidable.

And no matter how she turned it—
It didn’t leave.

End of Chapter 12