Skyline Solstice crouched on the ledge of a warehouse in Lacuna's Ironmarket district and stared across the gap into Crownfall. Her map ended at this roof. Beyond it, the tiled slopes and glass canopies of the lounge district were guesswork. She had promised herself one thing: an unbroken run across every district of the city, ground untouched. Twelve districts. Two years of scouting. She had never once linked Ironmarket to Crownfall on paper, because no runner she trusted had ever come back with a route. If she guessed wrong mid-run, she would drop three stories to a wet street and start the whole project from zero. She checked the tape on her wrists and jumped. She cleared the gap, hit a copper gutter, and ran. The first two roofs held. The third sagged under her weight and she cut left onto a narrow parapet she had not planned for. The parapet ended at a blank wall. She stopped, breathing hard, with no bridge forward and a forty-foot drop on both sides. A woman was already waiting on the balcony above her, elbows on the rail, watching. Velvet Mirage did not seem surprised. "Relax," Velvet said. "I already know why you came." She lowered a thin rope ladder without being asked. "There is a service walk between my roof and the tea house next door. You will not find it from the street. I will show you, once." Skyline climbed. On the balcony, Velvet studied her muddy shoes and smiled a small, patient smile. "Every room has a rhythm," she said. "So does every roof. You just handed me yours." Skyline understood the trade before it was named. She took the route. She walked the hidden seam between Ironmarket and Crownfall with Velvet three steps behind her, and by the time she reached the far chimney stack she owed a woman she had met eleven minutes ago a favor she could not yet price. The gap was crossed. The run was still alive. And someone new now held a piece of it.

Skyline dropped off Velvet's roofline into Crownfall proper and kept moving east, chasing the last dry hour of her run. Three districts behind her, nine ahead. She was two roofs into a slate stretch when she felt the pressure change against her ears. She stopped on a chimney stack and looked west. A wall of cloud was rolling in over the skyline, all curled masses and pale flashes at the base. Her tiles were dry now. In under an hour they would not be. Slate under rain was a mirror. Grip would go. Footing would go. If she was mid-leap when the first drops hit, she would fall. She had two choices and she hated both. Wait it out on a flat roof and break the unbroken run, or push through and gamble her ankles on wet clay. She was cutting a strap tighter on her shoe when a low voice spoke behind her. "You are going to die up here." Storm Grit stood on the ridge tiles, bandaged hands loose at her sides, yellow eyes fixed on the western sky. Skyline had not heard her climb. "Storm's on me in forty minutes," Storm Grit said. "I came up to get clear of people." She jerked her chin at the clouds. "That one drops hard. I know the sound." Skyline started to answer. Storm Grit cut her off. "There is a covered market three roofs north. Glass canopy. Iron frame. Rain runs off, frame stays dry. You can cross it in the storm if you stay on the ribs." She pointed. "Go now. Do not stop for me." Skyline went. She cleared two gaps at a sprint and hit the market canopy as the first drops smacked the tiles behind her. The iron ribs were narrow and slick with grease, but they held her weight and her shoes. She ran the length of the canopy in a crouch, one hand skimming the frame, and dropped onto a dry service ledge on the far side just as the squall broke open. Behind her, on the ridge she had left, she heard something large hit the tiles and keep moving north, away from the streets. She did not look back. The run was still unbroken. Three districts down. Nine to go. She now owed Velvet a favor and Storm Grit a debt she had not asked for, and the storm she had beaten by one minute was still the smallest thing pressing on her.