With a snap, the cuff clicked.
A hiss followed, soft but absolute, and the warmth around Alain's wrists disappeared. The metal slackened and fell against the table with a muted clatter.
For a heartbeat, he only stared at them, the chains that had defined his every second of the last few hours.
"Come on, I really hate overtime," Ceres said, voice low, almost amused.
He turned, with a quick motion of his hand, the seals on the door dissolved with a faint hum.
"Are you coming?"
Alain stood flabbergasted, "...We're leaving just like that? Immediately?"
Ceres didn't even glance back. "I'm a busy man. Unless…you'd prefer staying?"
Alain blinked. "That's not—I just thought there'd be, I don't know, a process."
"There is," Ceres said. "I just skipped it."
"Come along," the scholar went on. "Your friend's been waiting long enough."
That last part made Alain move. He followed, boots echoing against the floor as the corridor widened into a glass atrium. The rain outside had thinned to mist, light catching in droplets that drifted past the high windows.
Then he saw her. Cloaked in a jacket way double her size.
"Alain!"
Lia nearly tripped over herself running up the steps. Her braid was loose, her eyes red from exhaustion. She slowed only when she reached him, relief breaking across her face.
He tried to speak, but she reached him first, throwing her arms around him.
For a heartbeat, he froze: the warmth of her skin, the floral scent hit his nose, readjusting after days of cold stone. Then, slowly, he let out a breath and returned the embrace.
"You're okay," she murmured, her voice trembling against his shoulder.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'm fine."
"More importantly, did they do anything to you?" Alain pulled back, examining her for injuries.
She gave a half smile. "We've been worse, remember?"
"Right, we have." Alain returned the smile.
Ceres leaned against the nearest railing, arms crossed. "Ah, young love, or trauma bonding. Always hard to tell."
They both flushed, pulling back immediately. "It's not like that!" said in unison.
Ceres tilted his head. "Of course not. Now, if you're both done proving your emotional stability, we do have a train to catch."
"Train?" Alain asked.
"Yes," Ceres said, already turning toward the exit. "The one that will take you far away from here before the paperwork catches up. Try to sound grateful."
Alain didn't move right away. The corridor stretched ahead, bright and sharp, but his feet stayed planted on the cold tile.
"Far away," he echoed quietly.
Ceres half-turned. "Problem?"
"What about the Hearth?" Alain asked. "Julie, the kids... they'll need someone."
"They'll have someone," Ceres replied without missing a beat. "The Authority's attention is off them now, I made sure of that."
That should have eased him. It didn't.
He rubbed the faint red ring on his wrist, where the cuff had been. "And where are we going?"
"Finn Territory," Ceres said. "A city that is currently the center of the world. You'll see."
Lia looked between them. "You mean the Noble Sector?"
Ceres smiled. "Close enough. It might as well be a second capital with all the traffic."
"Feels like I'm running away," he murmured.
"Shall we get to the station?" Ceres gestured, pointing northward.
Alain followed, Lia close by his side.
***
The platform was a blur of light and motion.
Ceres moved like he belonged there. He flashed a sigil-etched card at a pillar, pressed his palm to a crystal slab, and three passes printed themselves in ribbons of gold light. The attendant scanned them without a word.
"Halden, Vale, Aston," Ceres said smoothly. "All cleared."
Alain caught only fragments: runes shifting midair, seals reshaping themselves before fading, the faint scent of ether burning through the air. Clean and precise, unlike the environment he was familiar with.
"You already had these?" Lia asked, pointing at passes.
"Of course," Ceres said, handing them each a pass. "They're perfectly real. Just as long as no one looks too hard."
He stepped forward as the rail gates opened. "Welcome to legitimacy, the Imperial way."
They waited near the edge of the platform, the air thick with heat and the faint scent of oil.
Runic rails glowed beneath the mist, their light pulsing like a heartbeat. For a while, no one spoke. Then the wind shifted. A whistle cut through the haze.
Light flared along the tunnel, and a silver train surged into view, its body carved with runes that blazed while it slowed.
Ceres straightened his coat. "That's us."
Lia exhaled, half-excited, half-nervous. Alain just stared at the vessel, skeptical.
Ceres scanned his pass; "Come along, students. The world doesn't wait for the uncertain."
Stepping foot inside, the air was warm and faintly sweet. The walls glowed with soft light, floor underfoot vibrated ever-so-slightly.
Lia slid into the nearest seat, still looking around. "It's so quiet."
Alain took the seat beside her, the crystal pass still warm in his hand.
Ceres sat across from them, crossing one leg over the other with the air of someone settling into routine.
"Enjoy the quiet while it lasts," he said, leaning back.
The floor hummed beneath their feet. Outside, the runic rails flared one after another, the glow chasing ahead like fire through glass.
Then, with a low metallic chime, the train lurched forward. The city began to fall away behind them.
Lia leaned closer to the window. "It's beautiful…"
Ceres flipped open a small, worn notebook. "All right," he murmured, more to himself than them. "Let's talk about where you're actually headed."
Ceres flipped through a few pages, the faint scratching of his pen almost drowned out by the hum beneath them.
"I'm guessing neither of you knows much about Finn," he said.
Alain shook his head. "I've never even left Ede."
Ceres didn't look surprised. "Most people don't. The Empire likes it that way."
He jotted something down, then tapped the page thoughtfully.
"Finn is…different. It's where most of the political powers and disputes are, masked under the guise of common interest."
Ceres flipped his notebook shut with a quiet snap.
"But," he said, tucking the pen behind his ear, "you should find out for yourself."
He leaned back and closed his eyes.
The rhythm of the rails filled the quiet, a steady, soothing pattern. For a moment, Alain let himself believe they were safe.
Then something shifted.
Lia straightened. "Did you feel—"
A low hum ran through the floor, rising to a trembling pitch. The train suddenly rumbled, a loud scream of screeching metal split the air.
The rails howled once, then everything broke.
SKREEEE—KRAAANG!
The sound hit like thunder, a single, deafening note of metal folding in on itself. Then nothing.
For a heartbeat, Alain felt weightless, his thoughts scattered. Then came the ringing. Dull at first, then rising until it drowned out everything else.
He blinked, breath catching. The world bled back into color.
Smoke. Heat. The smell of oil and ash.
He was on his side, half buried beneath a fractured seat. The air trembled with residual energy, each breath tasting of iron. Outside the broken window, he saw only fog and streaks of fire.
Something bright pulsed near the front of the carriage. He forced himself upright, his head pounding, vision swimming.
The sound hit like thunder, a single, deafening note of metal folding in on itself. Then nothing.
For a heartbeat, Alain felt weightless, his thoughts scattered. Then came the ringing. Dull at first, then rising until it drowned out everything else.
He blinked, breath catching. The world bled back into color.
Smoke. Heat. The smell of oil and ash.
He was on his side, half buried beneath a fractured seat. The air trembled with residual energy, each breath tasting of iron. Outside the broken window, he saw only fog and streaks of fire.
Something bright pulsed near the front of the carriage. He forced himself upright, his head pounding, vision swimming.
Ceres stood there. His coat was torn, his hair unbound, one hand pressed against the shattered ceiling. Sigils bloomed around him in spirals of light.
ᛉ— Algiz (Guard)
He pushed himself up. The cabin was half collapsed, half suspended over nothing.
"Lia!" he croaked.
A cough answered him from somewhere nearby. "Here—!"
He stumbled over shattered seats until he saw her, half covered by a broken frame. Her sleeve was torn, blood streaking her arm, but she was breathing. He knelt beside her, helping her sit.
Ceres didn't look back. His voice came low, strained but even
"Don't move. The seal's fragile."
"What happened?" Alain rasped.
Ceres' reply came through clenched teeth. "The train hit something. I protected our car, the rest…"
The survivors had gathered near the center aisle—faces pale, clothes torn, breaths uneven. Someone whispered a prayer; another tried to count the missing.
Lia leaned against Alain, eyes unfocused, until motion caught her through a gap in the barrier.
A figure stumbled from the fog. At first, she thought it was another survivor, until it bent down and dragged a body by the arm. The corpse's head lolled, and something dark glistened between its teeth.
Her breath hitched. "A—Alain…"
The figure turned toward the light, eyes burning faint red beneath the smoke.
Ceres's voice came quiet, certain.
"…Blighted."