Fabletown simmers beneath its quiet surface. Snow begins planting small truths where propaganda expects obedience. Bigsby works the forgotten tunnels under the city, tracing hidden routes and leaving warnings. Brannigan turns children’s rhymes into quiet resistance, letting doubt spread in ways no decree can catch. Whispers replace slogans. Glances replace trust. Something in the city shifts, subtle as a heartbeat. As the pressure tightens aboveground, the group retreats underground, deeper into Fabletown’s old infrastructure, a place built for a different kind of crisis. There, they regroup, gather fragments of information, and watch the city for signs of change. No battles. No banners. Just quiet moves in the dark… and a sense that Fabletown is starting to listen.