The walk to Edgeharbor took three hours.
Three hours of August trying very hard not to ask more questions about Arthur while simultaneously dying to know everything.
The repair crew moved like people who'd done this a thousand times efficient, alert, weapons ready but not drawn. They talked quietly among themselves about patrol schedules and supply runs, using terms August didn't recognize but desperately wanted to understand.
He walked near the back of the group, next to Kira, who seemed to be the only one willing to tolerate his existence.
"So," August said quietly, after they'd been walking for about an hour. "The Forsaken. They're… bad, right?"
Kira glanced at him sideways. "You really don't know anything, do you?"
"I'm a very sheltered person."
"Forsaken are what happens when people die wrong," Kira said. "Their bodies get twisted, their minds break, and they become these… things. They hunt anything that's still alive and try to drag it down with them."
August felt something cold settle in his stomach. "People become Forsaken?"
"Not all the time. But yeah. Die in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong thoughts in your head…" Kira shrugged. "Better to get a clean death if you can manage it."
"Clean death?"
"Quick. Painless. Before the corruption sets in." Kira's voice was matter-of-fact, like he was discussing the weather. "That's why we carry these."
He tapped a small vial hanging from his belt. The liquid inside was pale blue and seemed to glow faintly.
"Mercy serum," he explained. "One dose, and you go to sleep. No pain, no fear, no chance of coming back as something else."
August stared at the vial. In his ten-page story, the Forsaken had just been generic monsters. Faceless enemies for Arthur to fight. He'd never thought about what they used to be.
"That's…" He swallowed. "That's horrible."
"That's life," Kira said. Then, more gently: "You really are new to this, aren't you?"
Before August could answer, Reese called a halt. They'd reached the crest of a hill, and below them spread Edgeharbor in all its sprawling, impossible complexity.
August had expected a small town. Maybe a few dozen buildings, some farms, basic fortifications.
What he saw was a city.
Edgeharbor stretched across the valley like a metal flower, all spiraling districts and towering spires connected by bridges that defied physics. Steam rose from countless workshops. Airships actual airships drifted between the higher levels like lazy whales. The sound of industry echoed up from the lower districts: hammering, grinding, the hiss of pressure valves.
"I definitely didn't write this," August whispered.
"What?" Kira asked.
"Nothing. It's just… bigger than I expected."
"Edgeharbor's the last major city before the Eastern Rift," Reese said, overhearing. "Population's maybe two hundred thousand, counting the refugees. Used to be twice that, before the Severance Wars."
"The what wars?"
Reese gave him a look that suggested his ignorance was becoming suspicious. "Where exactly did you say you were from?"
"I didn't," August said quickly. "I mean, I'm from up north. Very far north. We don't get much news."
"Uh-huh." Reese didn't sound convinced, but she started walking again. "Well, for your education: the Severance Wars were when the old world ended. Fifteen years ago. Foundations went wild, reality started breaking down, and about half the continent got turned into wasteland. Edgeharbor's one of the few places left where normal people can still live."
Fifteen years. August did the math quickly. If Arthur was in his late twenties now, he would have been a teenager when the wars happened. Just a kid when everything fell apart.
"What about the people who caused it?" August asked. "The ones with the dangerous Foundations?"
"Some of them died in the fighting," Kira said. "Some went into exile. Some…" He gestured toward the city below. "Some became heroes. Or at least, that's what the recruitment posters say."
They were descending toward the city now, following a switchback road carved into the hillside. August could see the gates ahead massive metal barriers covered in symbols that hurt to look at directly.
"Protective wards," Reese explained, noticing his squinting. "Keep out the worst of the Forsaken. Also makes it very hard for anyone with an unstable Foundation to get inside without permission."
"Define unstable," August said nervously.
"Untrained. Uncontrolled. Or just plain dangerous." Reese stopped walking and turned to face him. "Speaking of which, before we go any further, I need to ask you something."
August's mouth went dry. "Okay."
"You've been walking with us for three hours. Most people without a Foundation would be exhausted by now, especially after whatever happened to you." She gestured at his bandaged arm and the cuts on his face. "But your breathing's steady, your pace hasn't slowed, and you haven't complained once about pain. So either you're tougher than you look, or you're hiding something."
The rest of the crew had stopped too, August realized. They were all watching him with expressions that ranged from curious to wary.
"I…" August's mind raced. "I might have a Foundation. I'm not sure."
"You're not sure?" Kira sounded incredulous.
"It's complicated."
"Foundations are pretty binary," Reese said. "You either have one or you don't. If you have one, you know what it does."
"Well, mine's… new. And weird. And I don't really understand it yet."
Reese studied him for a long moment. Then she reached into her pack and pulled out a device that looked like a cross between a compass and a tuning fork.
"Foundation detector," she said. "Standard issue for all patrol leaders. If you've got an active Foundation, this will pick it up."
She pointed the device at August and activated it.
The thing immediately started shrieking like a smoke alarm having a panic attack.
Everyone stepped back.
"What the hell" Reese stared at the device, then at August. "This thing only makes that sound for Class A manifestations."
"Is that bad?" August asked weakly.
"Class A means dangerous," Kira said. "Like, 'evacuate the civilians and call for backup' dangerous."
"But I'm not dangerous!" August protested. "I mean, I scared off one tiny Forsaken, but that's it!"
"You scared off a Forsaken?" Reese's voice had gone very quiet. "How?"
"I… stood there? And it ran away?"
The crew exchanged glances.
"Forsaken don't run," one of the others said. "They attack until they're dead, or you are."
"Well, this one definitely ran," August said. "Maybe it was broken?"
"Or maybe," Reese said slowly, "your Foundation made it think you were something it couldn't handle."
She put the detector away, but her hand stayed near her weapon.
"Here's what's going to happen," she said. "We're going to take you to the city, because leaving you out here is probably worse than bringing you in. But you're going straight to the Foundation Registry for evaluation. No arguments, no detours, no trying to slip away in the crowd."
"That sounds reasonable," August said.
"And if you're lying about not being dangerous," Reese continued, "if this is some kind of elaborate infiltration attempt, you should know that Edgeharbor has some very creative ways of dealing with hostile Foundation users."
"Noted," August said. "But I'm really not hostile. I'm just lost and confused and maybe a little bit traumatized."
Reese nodded once. "We'll see."
They continued down the hill in a much more tense silence. August could feel the weight of their attention, the way they all stayed just a little too far away from him, hands ready to reach for weapons.
As they approached the gates, August got his first close look at the protective wards. The symbols seemed to writhe and shift when he wasn't looking directly at them, and they gave off a low humming sound that made his teeth ache.
"Papers," one of the guards called out as they approached.
Reese stepped forward and handed over a bundle of documents. "Commander Reese, returning from perimeter repair with crew. Plus one potential registry case."
The guard looked at August with obvious suspicion. "Foundation class?"
"Unknown. Possibly Class A."
Both guards tensed immediately.
"Sir," one of them said into a communication device, "we have a potential Code Yellow at the main gate. Requesting immediate registry escort."
Within minutes, a new group arrived—three people in crisp uniforms with the kind of calm, professional bearing that suggested they dealt with dangerous Foundation users on a regular basis.
"I'm Agent Carver," the leader said, addressing August directly. "Foundation Registry, Assessment Division. I understand you're having some classification issues."
"That's one way to put it," August said.
"Well, let's get you sorted out. The sooner we understand what you can do, the sooner we can figure out where you belong in the city."
August nodded, trying to project harmless cooperation while internally panicking.
The registry agents escorted him through the gates and into Edgeharbor proper. The city was even more overwhelming from the inside—a maze of levels and districts, each with its own distinct character. They passed through what looked like a market district, where vendors sold everything from mechanical parts to glowing crystals. Then a residential area with buildings that grew like trees, their walls covered in living vines that pulsed with bioluminescent light.
"First time in Edgeharbor?" Agent Carver asked, noticing his staring.
"Yeah. It's… not what I expected."
"Most people are surprised by how much we've rebuilt. Fifteen years ago, this was just a refugee camp. Now look at it."
They turned onto a wide boulevard lined with official-looking buildings. The Foundation Registry occupied a sleek tower near the city center, its walls covered in the same protective wards as the gate.
"Don't be nervous," Carver said as they climbed the steps. "The assessment process is completely safe. We just need to understand your Foundation's parameters so we can issue you proper documentation."
"What if my Foundation is weird?" August asked.
"Define weird."
"What if it's something that's never been seen before?"
Carver paused at the entrance. "Kid, in fifteen years of post-Severance Foundation work, I've seen manifestations that defy physics, logic, and basic sanity. Trust me, we can handle weird."
They entered the building through a lobby that was all clean lines and soft lighting. August half-expected it to feel oppressive, but it actually seemed designed to be calming.
"Assessment Room Three is ready," a receptionist called out as they passed.
"Excellent." Carver led August down a hallway lined with doors marked with numbers and symbols. "Now, before we begin, I need to ask: do you have any reason to believe your Foundation might be harmful to others?"
August thought about the Forsaken running away from him. About the entity on the bridge and the power it had given him.
"I don't think so," he said. "But honestly, I don't really know what it does yet."
"That's fine. That's what we're here to figure out."
They stopped at a door marked with the number three and several symbols that probably meant something important to people who understood Foundation theory.
"Ready?" Carver asked.
August took a deep breath. "As I'll ever be."
The door opened, revealing a sterile white room with a chair in the center and observation windows on three walls. It looked disturbingly like an interrogation chamber.
"Just take a seat," Carver said. "This won't hurt a bit."
August sat down, trying not to think about how many times in history those exact words had been followed by something that definitely hurt more than a bit.
"Now then," Carver said, pulling out a device that looked like the detector Reese had used, but much more sophisticated. "Let's see what you're hiding."