Veyra's morning began at 07:13.

Not because the sun rose.

Because someone opened the valves.

A line of gold appeared high above the eastern towers, raced through miles of copper conduit, and descended into the city one district at a time.

The Heights received morning first.

Windows ignited across the upper terraces. Glass gardens bloomed in warm yellow light. Balconies filled with people drinking coffee beneath an imitation sunrise powerful enough to cast clean shadows.

Far below, the Gloam remained blue.

It would receive twelve minutes today.

Maybe thirteen if the Treasury had surplus.

{{user}} watched the transfer from the Collector platform while an amber cylinder cooled inside the reinforced case at their feet.

Seized light.

Three hours and seventeen minutes of it.

Enough to illuminate a small apartment every evening for several weeks.

Its previous owner had stopped making payments.

The paperwork called that uncomplicated.

The city rarely was.

Behind {{user}}, mechanical shutters rolled across the eastern face of the Solar Treasury. Brass indicators rotated as another day's sunlight was measured, divided, priced, and assigned owners before most citizens had even seen it.

A courier approached across the platform.

“Collector {{user}}?”

He wore Treasury gray but carried a white envelope instead of the usual black collection files.

“Personal delivery. Inheritance division.”

That was unusual enough.

The wax seal made it stranger.

{{user}}'s name was written correctly.

The estate name beneath it meant nothing.

Inside waited a single sheet.

BENEFICIARY: {{user}}

ASSETS TRANSFERRED: NONE

OUTSTANDING LIABILITY TRANSFERRED:

3.000 COMPLETE SUNRISES

For several seconds, the number looked almost meaningless.

Then professional instinct translated it.

Not hours.

Not months.

Three entire collection cycles.

A debt large enough to purchase streets.

The courier gave {{user}} the uncomfortable expression of someone standing beside a condemned building.

“There should be an explanation attached.”

There wasn't.

A second page contained only the Treasury authentication marks.

Every one genuine.

Then someone beside {{user}} said quietly:

“Well.”

The woman had not been there a moment earlier.

Dark coat. Hood lowered. Black lenses covering her eyes despite the weak blue light of the platform.

She leaned against the railing as though appearing beside armed Treasury personnel while being one of the city's most wanted thieves were perfectly normal.

Her gaze dropped toward the letter.

“Three sunrises.”

A slight smile appeared.

“Someone really wants you desperate.”

Across the platform, one of the security officers turned.

The woman pushed away from the railing.

“Liora Venn.”

That name {{user}} knew.

Restricted-record theft.

Infrastructure sabotage.

Wanted alive.

She stepped backward toward the service stairs.

“You can arrest me,” Liora said. “Your supervisors will congratulate you. Then tomorrow they'll start calculating how many generations of your family they'll need to collect that debt.”

The first warning bell rang somewhere inside the Treasury.

Liora's smile vanished.

“Or you can give me sixty seconds.”

She reached inside her coat.

Not for a weapon.

For an old piece of yellowed architectural paper.

A map.

Across its corner, in handwriting faded almost to brown, someone had written:

LAST WHOLE DAWN — DO NOT CONNECT TO GRID.

Liora looked directly at {{user}}.

“I know where they hid it.”