She didn't stop to pack.
There was no time.
No scrolls, no focus rings, no maps.
Eris Thorne ran.
Through moonlit hallways, down marble steps worn smooth by centuries of spellwalking, past stone statues that once looked noble, and now only looked like watchers carved in judgment. The Collegium Arcanum, once her haven, now hummed with danger.
The wards weren't trying to keep intruders out anymore.
They were trying to keep her in.
She felt it. In the walls. On the floor. In the hush that followed her every step. The sigils that once opened for her now flickered, unsure whether to allow her passage or resist.
They didn't know what she was anymore.
Neither did she.
She made it to the Hall of Veins.
The name was metaphorical—or it had been. Channels of glowing aether ran beneath the floor like arteries, connecting every wing of the Collegium to the city beyond. Above her, arched glass let in the moonlight, painting the floor in broken patterns.
Eris pressed her hand to the main seal at the center of the chamber. The glyph was familiar: Terran, reinforced with Aere, tuned to keep students from fleeing without approval.
She closed her eyes.
For a moment, she tried to cast.
Fire. Push. Unlock.
But the spell collapsed before it formed. The sigil on her chest pulsed once, and her thoughts unraveled into instinct.
So she did not cast.
She asked.
"Let me go," she whispered.
And the floor obeyed.
The seal uncoiled, not like metal breaking, but like something living, loosening its hold. The aether lines blinked once, dimmed… and opened.
The great door to the outer causeway cracked with a hiss of air, followed by a long, shuddering groan. Cold wind spilled into the hall. Eris stumbled forward into the dark.
She made it to the city's underlayer by sunrise.
Cavemarket.
Where spellthieves traded broken charms and shadowmancers whispered in alleys that shifted when no one looked. Where runaways, mercenaries, and worse found shelter. It smelled of scorched copper, incense, and unwashed magic.
Her hood was up. Her cloak, dusty and travel-worn. She hadn't eaten in two days, and her limbs trembled—not just from exhaustion, but from restraint.
The sigil wanted to act.
And worse—it wanted to be seen.
She could feel it now: a pressure inside her skull, a sense of being watched by herself. As if something ancient was awake and waiting to speak.
She ducked into a broken-sided tavern wedged between two sunken buildings. It had no name, just a symbol on the door: a hand with no fingers.
Perfect.
Inside, it was dim, crowded, and loud. The kind of place that smelled like it didn't believe in memory.
She found a corner. Sat. Ordered nothing.
The sigil burned faintly beneath her collarbone. Not hot. Not painful.
Just present.
"They're still searching for you."
The voice came from behind her. Soft. Familiar.
She didn't turn.
"Renna," she said.
Her old roommate slid into the seat across from her, eyes cautious but not cold. "You're bad at hiding. You glow."
Eris tried to smile. "Still better than screaming."
"They sent a Watcher after you. Then they sent three more. You're a fugitive now."
Eris looked down at her hands. "I didn't hurt him. Not really. I just—"
"You unmade the ground beneath his feet," Renna said. "You erased gravity for fifteen seconds. The city's still calculating the damage."
Eris flinched.
Renna leaned in. "They want to kill you, Eris. Quietly. Politely. Surgically. And if they can't, they'll label you a rogue. A reality-bender. A threat to the Eight."
"They're right," Eris said quietly. "Aren't they?"
Renna didn't answer.
Then, gently: "There's a place. Outside the Circle's reach. An old fortress in the dead marshes. It's off-grid. Off-leyline. The Circle doesn't go there anymore."
"Why?"
"Because the last bearer of the Ninth died there," Renna said. "Or became something else."
As she spoke, the sigil pulsed again.
And for a heartbeat, Eris could see it—not just on her skin, but sprawling through the room, etched into the air itself. Threaded in fire. Burning beneath the table. Behind the bar. In the cracks between every spoken word.
The Ninth was already spreading.
She stood abruptly.
Renna looked up. "Eris?"
"I need to see what I really am," she whispered.
And then, quieter still:
"Before they try to decide for me."