The Premonition
The mark on Aiden's wrist began glowing long before nightfall. Not pulsing. Not burning. Screaming.
The letters scrawled up his forearm, across his shoulder, branding themselves in raw glyphs that bled light through his shirt:
INSTALLMENT SIX: COLLECTION STAGE.
Kai saw it first, eyes narrowing. "Collection? That doesn't sound like trial."
Liora's braid dripped rainwater as she leaned against the window, face paler than usual. "Because it isn't. Trials test. Collection claims. If this is what I think it is—" She stopped, jaw clenched.
Porcelain finished for her. "It means the Hand returns. But not alone."
The room went silent.
The Collapse of the Safe World
Midnight didn't wait.
This time, the walls didn't peel. The floor didn't twist. The entire house shattered.
Aiden stumbled as the kitchen table split apart into floating shards. His mother's note — Don't stay up too late — burned into ash midair. The floor fell away into nothingness, leaving them standing on the ruin of their home, suspended in an endless storm of light and shadow.
And there, at the center of the storm, the Hand emerged.
The same gloved figure from before, but magnified — its presence so heavy the storm itself bent around it. Its coat flared in the gale, violet runes crawling across its sleeves.
But it was not alone.
Behind it came three Collectors, parchment bodies snapping with glyphs, and two Negotiators, their contracts bleeding like wounds. Together they formed a circle, hemming Aiden in.
The Hand raised its arm. "Collection authorized. Debtor's body and essence shall be seized."
Kai stepped in front without hesitation. "You'll have to kill me first."
Chains lashed out instantly, wrapping his arms and legs, dragging him to his knees.
Liora moved, blade flashing, but the Negotiator snapped parchment open — her name written on it. Her body froze mid-swing, seized by clauses written in blood.
Porcelain didn't move at all. His eyes only narrowed.
The First Clash
The Collectors struck. Parchment lashed like whips, glyphs igniting. Aiden swung his cloak up, shouting: "Bind!"
The tendrils froze midair, but the backlash slammed into his ribs, tearing blood from his lips.
The Hand didn't even flinch. Its presence alone was heavier than the Council's tribunal.
The Negotiators unfurled scrolls, words spilling like chains: "ASSET FORFEITURE. DEBT TRANSFER. BALANCE LIQUIDATED."
The words wrapped around his body, pulling essence from his skin in threads of light. Aiden screamed, cloak writhing.
Kai thrashed against his chains. "Fight it! Bend it!"
But the words were stronger. Different. They weren't just trial clauses. They were execution orders.
The Breakthrough
On his knees, blood streaking his chin, Aiden's eyes burned. His mark flared hotter, script climbing up his throat, threatening to brand his face.
He remembered Porcelain's words: The Hand doesn't fight with fists. It fights with rules.
And Kai's words: You bend rules. Bend this one.
Aiden gasped, "No… transfer."
The cloak hissed. The words of the scroll bent midair, snapping back, twisting their clauses. "Debt Transfer" warped into "Debt Reflection."
The chains of essence reversed, slamming back into the Negotiator who cast them. Its parchment body ignited, scroll burning to ash.
The chamber boomed. The Hand's head tilted, for the first time showing surprise.
The Hand's Move
The remaining Collectors and Negotiator surged, glyphs blazing. Aiden rose, cloak flaring around him, whispering commands like daggers:
"Stay." — The Collectors froze, parchment cracking.
"Bend." — The scrolls twisted, warping into nonsense.
"Break." — The chains on Kai shattered, his brother lurching free.
But the cost was brutal. His chest burned. Blood streamed freely from his nose, his ears. His skin blistered where the mark pulsed.
The Hand stepped forward at last, glove glowing violet. "Impressive. But rebellion compounds interest. And I… am Interest incarnate."
It raised its arm. The entire storm bent inward, lightning and shadow spiraling into its palm, forming a spear of pure collection — essence crystallized into debt given shape.
Aiden staggered, cloak trembling. He knew — if it struck, he wouldn't block it. He would be erased.
Kai's Defiance
Kai leapt in front of him, arms wide. "Then it kills me first."
The Hand's voice cut like a razor. "Unmarked interference: penalty clause."
The spear bent toward Kai.
"No!" Aiden screamed. He raised his cloak — but he was too slow. Too drained.
The spear flew.
Kai's grin flashed even as it came. "Guess I'm heavier than you thought."
The cloak surged on its own, wrapping Kai, bending the spear off-course at the last instant. It grazed him, burning deep across his shoulder, but it didn't pierce.
The backlash hit Aiden like thunder. He collapsed, chest tearing, vision blackening.
The Counterstroke
Liora broke free in the chaos, her blade swinging in an arc of shadowlight. She cut through the last Negotiator, scrolls scattering. The Collectors unraveled into ash.
Only the Hand remained.
Porcelain finally moved. He stepped forward, voice quiet but heavy as a sentence. "You've weighed him, bound him, mirrored him, judged him. Yet he remains. Tell your Council this: debtors are not prey. They are predators."
The Hand turned its faceless gaze on him. "You risk breach, ghost."
Porcelain smiled thinly. "Breach was the point."
Aiden pushed himself upright, blood dripping from his mouth. His cloak burned brighter than ever, shadows writhed alive around him.
"No more scales," he rasped. "No more chains. Tonight… you pay."
He whispered: "Invert."
The cloak screamed, not binding, not bending — inverting.
The Hand's spear shattered, fragments turning back into lightning that stabbed into its own form. The storm whipped against it, tearing its glove, splitting its coat. For the first time, the Hand stumbled.
The chamber cracked, void trembling.
The Aftermath
The Hand did not fall. But it retreated. Its body unraveled into violet smoke, voice echoing through the storm.
"Installment Six: Paid. But your ledger bleeds. And tomorrow… the Seventh collects."
The storm collapsed. The room returned — cracked, scorched, half-real. Kai clutched his shoulder, bleeding but alive. Liora leaned against the wall, trembling with exhaustion. Porcelain stood still, unreadable.
Aiden sank to the floor, cloak curling limp around him, mark still burning.
Kai knelt beside him, smiling despite the blood on his lips. "Six down."
Aiden whispered, "One left."
The cloak hissed. The brand on his wrist shifted, writing its final decree:
INSTALLMENT SEVEN: TERMINAL NIGHT.