The world didn't return all at once.
It came back in pieces—
shards of noise
shards of breath
shards of reality
slowly settling in the ruins of the medbay.
The lights buzzed weakly overhead. Some flickered. Some hung broken by their wires. Machines lay snapped in half across the tiles. Glass dust glittered across the floor like frost.
The Prototype was a collapsed heap of twisted metal, its half-melted frame slumped into the cratered wall where I'd destroyed it.
But none of that mattered.
Not compared to the boy lying unconscious in my arms.
Horace.
His skin was cold. Not lifeless—just wrong. Too pale. Too clammy. His breaths came shallow, quick, then slow. His pulse fluttered under my fingers like something slipping away.
Too close.
He'd come too close.
"Lucian," I whispered. "He's not waking up."
Lucian didn't answer. He was already at Horace's side, tearing open medkits with trembling hands, voice hoarse from shouting.
"Don't panic—don't panic—he's breathing—we stabilize breathing first—then pressure—then neurological—why the hell did he stand up—why the hell did he protect—"
He cut himself off with a curse.
I kept smoothing Horace's hair back because that was the only thing I could do without falling apart.
Rowan's soft sobs shook the room.
He was curled in Chandler's lap, fingers clutching Chandler's shirt so tightly the fabric stretched. Chandler had both arms around him, large hands shielding Rowan's head from the flickering lights, his own voice cracking as he murmured to him.
"Hey—hey, you're okay. It's over. It's over, sweetheart. You're safe."
"I'm n-not," Rowan whispered, shaking so badly it made the metal fragments on the floor rattle.
"Chandler—my chest—my head—I can't—I can't breathe—"
"Yes, you can," Chandler whispered fiercely, pressing their foreheads together.
"Right here. Breathe with me. Just listen to my voice."
Rowan's breath hitched, uneven and painful.
Lucian shot a glance their way.
"He's going into scent shock," he said sharply.
"Chandler, keep grounding him—if he tips over, his adrenaline will spike and his body will crash."
Chandler pulled Rowan tighter against him, anchoring him with his weight and scent.
"I've got you. Don't go anywhere. Stay with me. Stay with me."
Rowan buried his face in Chandler's neck and sobbed, whole body shaking.
I looked away—only because if I didn't, I'd start crying with them.
Horace stirred faintly in my arms.
Very faintly.
Just a twitch of his fingers.
I grabbed his hand, squeezing gently.
"Horace," I whispered, leaning down so my forehead rested against his.
"Can you hear me? Please hear me."
His eyelids fluttered. Once. Then again.
Then stilled.
Lucian swore again under his breath.
"Elleanore—His vitals are going unstable."
"What does that mean?" My voice trembled.
"Lucian—tell me what that means."
"It means the Prototype hit him too hard," Lucian said, rapidly checking Horace's pulse and placing a cool pack against his neck.
"He's in recovery shock. He should be unconscious. But—"
"But what?"
"But he keeps trying to fight it," Lucian whispered.
"Because you're here."
My breath hitched.
"Then—then I'll go—if it helps, I'll step away—"
Lucian grabbed my wrist.
"No. That would kill him. He'd wake from panic. He needs your scent. Just not the Ascended version."
I froze.
"What?"
Lucian met my eyes.
"Elleanore—your scent changed."
A quiet, terrifying truth settled between us.
"I'm not collapsing," I said slowly.
"No." Lucian shook his head, awe mixing with fear.
"You completed the threshold. You're fully awakened. You're a Prime. A real one. Not dormant. Not partial."
I swallowed hard.
My hands shook.
"What—does that make me?"
Lucian let out a long breath.
"Someone the Academy will not let walk away."
My stomach dropped.
Before I could ask him what that meant—
Rowan let out a choked cry.
"I—I can't—I can't—Chandler—I can't breathe—"
Chandler quickly shifted him closer, holding the back of Rowan's head.
"Look at me," he whispered urgently.
"Hey—look—eyes on me—come on—"
Rowan's pupils were blown wide. His breathing came in wet gasps.
"I'm scared—" Rowan said.
"Horrace nearly—Elleanore nearly—Lucian was—everything was—too loud—too bright—too much—"
Chandler pulled him fully into his arms, rocking him slightly.
"I'm here. I'm right here. Do you feel me holding you?"
Rowan nodded weakly.
"Good.
You're safe.
You're grounded.
You're not alone."
Rowan curled into him, sobbing so quietly it hurt to hear.
Lucian whispered to me:
"He's going to crash hard. But he'll recover if Chandler stays close."
I nodded—barely.
And then—
the medbay doors blew open.
Not dramatically.
Just with authority.
Three figures stepped inside.
Dressed in silver coats.
Crisp uniforms.
Cold expressions.
The Academy Council's Emergency Division.
My blood ran cold.
Lucian cursed under his breath.
"Of all the nights—"
The woman in front—tall, sharp-eyed, severe—took one slow look around the destroyed medbay.
The shattered machinery.
The cratered wall.
The melting Prototype.
Horace unconscious in my arms.
And then—
me.
Her jaw tightened.
"Elleanore Fonze," she said, voice smooth and chilling,
"you are hereby placed under provisional containment for unauthorized Prime activation."
I froze.
"What—?"
Chandler stiffened, holding Rowan closer.
Lucian stepped in front of me.
"Councilwoman Aris—she just saved the entire goddamn floor—"
"And destroyed it," Aris replied calmly.
"With a Prime-level instinct burst strong enough to register outside the building."
Lucian's voice dropped to a snarl.
"She had no choice."
Aris's eyes slid to me again.
"Prime awakening without supervision is a violation of Academy Code 07."
My heart hammered painfully.
"I—
I didn't choose this—"
"No one ever does," Aris replied.
"That's why you're being brought in."
Chandler's voice was sharp with panic.
"Hold on—she just almost died—Horace almost died—Rowan nearly collapsed—Elleanore's scent is still unstable—you can't just drag her out—!"
Aris didn't blink.
"She will not be harmed."
Her gaze darkened.
"Provided she cooperates."
Horace stirred faintly in my lap.
I bent over him quickly.
"Horace—"
His eyes fluttered open.
Barely.
He looked up at me.
Confused.
Pained.
Trying to focus.
"Elle…?"
Aris exhaled sharply.
"Restrain him. He's still unstable."
Something inside me snapped.
"DON'T TOUCH HIM."
Aris's guards froze—because my voice wasn't steady.
It was deep.
Resonant.
Scent-laced.
Prime-laced.
Aris raised an eyebrow.
"Try that again."
Lucian grabbed my shoulder urgently.
"Elleanore—don't—your scent is still shifting—if you spike again you'll collapse—"
But my instincts were already lighting under my skin.
"He stays," I said quietly.
"I go nowhere without him."
Aris's expression didn't change.
"He is not the Prime. You are. He will be treated once you are secured."
I stood slowly, bracing myself on the bed.
Lucian tried to steady me.
I pushed his hand away gently.
"No."
The lights flickered once.
My scent rose—steady, thick, undeniable.
I stepped in front of Horace.
"Take me," I said.
"But he stays. And Chandler and Rowan stay with him. Lucian supervises his condition. That's my compromise."
Aris narrowed her eyes.
"You are in no position to negotiate."
I looked her dead in the eyes.
"You don't have the resources to move an Ascending Prime against her will."
The silence hit the room like a weight.
Chandler whispered, awed:
"…holy shit."
Lucian slowly, discreetly stepped beside me.
Rowan, trembling in Chandler's arms, lifted his head just enough to whisper:
"E-Elleanore…"
I softened my tone—not my stance.
"No one here will be hurt because of me.
But I won't let you take me if it endangers them."
Aris tapped her nails against her arm.
A slow, considering sound.
Then—
"Very well."
Lucian exhaled in relief.
Chandler buried his face briefly in Rowan's hair.
Rowan's shoulders sagged in relief.
"But make no mistake," Aris continued,
"You will come with us. And before dawn."
"I will," I said.
Aris turned to the guards.
"Prep the Prime transport. She goes alone."
Chandler growled under his breath.
Lucian whispered fiercely:
"Elleanore—do NOT let them isolate you—"
But Aris was already leaving.
And as the doors slid shut behind her—
I exhaled a shaky breath.
Lucian turned to me.
"Elleanore," he said, voice lowered, urgent.
"You have no idea what they will do with a newly awakened Prime. You cannot go without a plan."
I swallowed.
My eyes drifted back to Horace.
His eyelashes fluttered.
His fingers twitched.
His breath was weak—
but real.
Lucian's voice softened.
"You need him. And he needs you."
I nodded.
A tear slipped down my cheek.
"I know."
Rowan whispered shakily from Chandler's arms:
"We won't… let them hurt you."
Chandler kissed the top of his head gently.
"We're with you."
Lucian rubbed the back of his hand over his face.
"Then we move quietly. And fast. We don't have long."
I looked around the destroyed medbay.
The melted metal wall.
The shattered equipment.
The Prototype's corpse.
My brother's ghost.
Horace's unconscious form.
Chandler holding Rowan like something precious.
Lucian exhausted, bleeding, terrified.
And I whispered to myself:
"There's always a price for survival."