Raze shot up like something had snapped.
Dragged from a depth too quiet.
Too far below waking. Breath shallow.
Palms cold. Back slick. Not silence. Stillness.
Thick. Wrong.
This wasn't his room. Not the stone cot.
Not the charred candle.
Not the wall scribbled with half-dried ink.
No. This air moved differently.
Amber touched the blanket he didn't remember.
Embroidery caught against his fingers.
The mattress didn't creak.
It gave. The scent lingered.
Ash and citrus, crushed together like fire over fruit.
Pillows still held the shape of someone else's sleep.
His eyes tracked the wall.
A sword. Long, ceremonial. Framed, not drawn.
Everything curated. Nothing cold.
This was her room.
Alteria.
And he was on her bed.
"What…"
The word barely left him before the door burst open. She didn't enter. She returned.
Like the moment had been on pause without her.
Silk trailing like a second body.
She crossed the room in five steps.
"Raze—" her voice cracked, sharp, "You're—"
Then she was there. Arms around him.
Tight. But not crushing.
"I thought—" breath rushed out of her like it had been stuck, "You weren't breathing right. You were drenched. Unresponsive. I—"
He blinked.
Still caught between the dream. Whatever this was.
"You found me?" His voice scratched.
Alteria pulled back, just enough.
Her hands didn't leave him.
"Nyra came to me," she said. "Said something felt wrong. Wouldn't shut up. But I didn't wait. I went to your quarters—"
A beat. Her fingers curled tighter in his sleeve.
"You were disconnected. The system flagged you—said something about a fate-severance breach."
Another breath.
"I didn't want to move you." Quieter. "But I didn't want to leave you either."
She looked like she hadn't slept.
And Raze still couldn't remember if he had.
[ Ping! ]
[ system is disconnected ]
[ recalibrating. . . ]
>>>
[ failed. ]
[ backup has been tested. ]
[ it has also failed. ]
[ vassalord has been informed. ]
[ stagnation is not excuse. ]
The room was too soft for words. Too shaped.
Even the silence felt placed.
Alteria hadn't moved far.
She sat now. Beside him, not quite touching.
One foot tucked beneath her. Robe folding over her leg like it had been waiting there.
A basin rested on the table nearby.
Steam no longer rose from it.
She dipped the cloth again. Wringed it once.
Then pressed it gently to his neck.
"You were cold," she said.
He was still cold. But he didn't say that.
Her hand lingered.
"You kept convulsing. I didn't know what would help. I tried the override. I tried a cleanse. I tried—" she stopped. "I just wanted you to stay."
Raze's throat tightened.
"Why here?"
She looked at him then.
Not surprised by the question. Just... tired.
"Because I didn't want anyone else touching you."
He glanced away.
Not from shame. Just from the weight in her voice. Like the answer had cost her something.
"I didn't mean to break," he muttered.
"You didn't," she said. "The system did."
Her hand drifted back to her lap. She didn't wring the cloth again.
"I've never seen it fail like that," she added. "Even Thalia couldn't explain it. And she always has answers."
The words hung.
Then—
"You shouldn't have been alone."
"I wasn't," he said. "Until I was."
She closed her eyes for half a breath.
"I should've gotten there sooner."
"You got there," he said. "That's enough."
It wasn't.
They both knew that.
But neither said it.
[ error remains unresolved ]
[ directive: undefined ]
[ emotional coherence: fragmenting ]
[ prepare for failstate ]
>>>
[ vassalord has removed oath temporarily ]
[ skill unlocked via the error: drakonis ]
°⌜ A Week Later ⌟°
The grounds were still.
Even the flags above the tower didn't move.
Wind hadn't passed through Valvoral all morning.
The clouds hung like bruises waiting to break.
Raze stood in the center of the ring.
Arms loose, back straight, eyes locked on nothing.
Breath steady. Barefoot.
No one else was here.
No Thalia. No guards. No Alteria. No watching nobles with their smirks and sideways comments.
Just stone.
And silence.
And him.
He moved like the memory of a weapon.
Not drawn, but sharpened.
One foot slid back. Left hand opened.
Fire didn't ignite, but the feeling of it pressed under his skin like it wanted to. Like it missed him.
He didn't speak the glyph. Didn't call the name.
He didn't need to.
It was waiting.
He exhaled.
Not a cast. A test.
The air rippled at his fingertips.
Heat without flame. Pressure without light.
Then it snapped.
A pulse, clean and fast, rolled out from his body like a breath held too long finally let go.
The training stones around him rattled.
Dust kicked.
A leaf nearby burned at the edge.
It curled in on itself without catching.
He didn't flinch.
[ Ping! ]
[ Drakonis ]
[ Status: Incomplete Integration ]
[ Command link: Unbound ]
He stared at the system text as it faded.
No voice read it aloud.
No prompt followed.
Just static in the back of his mind like something had once been there and now wasn't.
Something... missing.
The Drakonis.
A gift, or a glitch.
He didn't know.
But he knew what it felt like.
Freedom.
Brief. Unstable.
But real.
He reached for it again.
Not to activate.
Just to feel it flicker under the surface.
The flame inside him responded slower this time.
Not fear. Not resistance. Just... fatigue.
Like it had been fighting for him, too.
He dropped his stance.
Let his arms fall back to his sides.
His body was recovering.
His thoughts were not. Not yet.
"A Drakos who doesn't want to fight is as good as a dolphin who doesn't like swimming…"
The voice didn't echo.
It just cut through. Casual. Sharp. Close enough to feel, not hear.
Raze didn't turn immediately.
Fire flicked around his hand—reflex, not command. A warning pulse.
The flame didn't lash. It watched.
Nyra stepped into the ring like she was stepping onto a stage she'd already owned in another life.
Her boots didn't scrape.
Her cloak barely brushed stone. But her presence?
Loud.
"Good form," she said. "Better shoulders. Not as twitchy."
Raze exhaled once. The flame pulled back into his palm like it knew she wasn't worth wasting heat on.
Not yet.
"I didn't ask for an audience."
"No," she said. "But you've got one."
She stopped a few paces from him.
Just outside the blast radius.
"Word is, you're unstable," she said lightly, tapping her heel once into the floor. "Rumors say you broke the system."
She smiled, like it was a compliment. Or a dare.
"Tell me, firecracker. Did it hurt?"
Raze looked up. Eyes steady.
"Yes."
Nyra blinked at that. Not expecting honesty.
"Good," she said. "Means it was real."
A pause.
"You scared her, you know."
"I scare a lot of people," Raze replied.
She tilted her head.
"Not like that."
She started to pace. One hand behind her back.
The other brushed lightly against the curved training poles lined against the wall.
"Alteria doesn't run. Not unless something's chasing her."
"She didn't run," Raze said. "She came back."
Nyra's smile sharpened.
"You believe that?"
He didn't answer.
Because part of him wasn't sure if he meant it as a defense… or a hope. The silence sat between them like smoke after a failed cast.
Then Nyra stopped pacing.
She didn't look amused anymore.
"You're changing, Raze," she said, tone flattening. "And not just with power. Something's shifting."
He met her gaze. Unflinching.
"You're watching too closely."
"I always watch," she said. "Especially when someone becomes… interesting."
Another step closer. This time into the ring.
He didn't step back.
"Don't lose that edge," she said, voice low now. "But remember who let you sharpen it."
She turned, cloak flicking behind her like a punctuation mark.
"Keep burning, firecracker."
And then she was gone.
Just like the wind that still hadn't returned.