Rifts don't vanish.
They echo.
Elias didn't sleep after what happened in the stairwell.
He couldn't.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw that tear in reality again—black depth, shifting shapes, the sensation of something ancient reaching outward from behind the seams of the world.
But fear wasn't what kept him awake.
Not anymore.
It was the thrill.
He felt it even now, walking through the school courtyard under a gray morning sky, shoulders hunched, hood up.
People passed by him. No one looked twice.
That was fine.
He had a secret now.
And it was alive.
He tried again at lunch.
A supply closet behind the old gym—door locked, hallway empty.
He stared at the doorknob.
"Do you wish to open it?" the system whispered.
He didn't reply.
Just focused.
The mark on his arm pulsed.
And the air split.
A clean, straight cut—like someone had sliced the molecules apart with invisible scissors.
The door didn't swing open.
It folded.
Twisted in on itself like paper dipped in flame.
He stepped through.
No one saw.
Inside, he stood in silence, breathing fast.
His hands weren't shaking this time.
He smiled.
That afternoon, it happened.
The moment that made everything change.
Literature class.
He was late.
The room was full. He slipped in back, head down.
Professor Lang was already lecturing—old, strict, the kind of man who thought sarcasm was a teaching style.
He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Elias.
"Ward," he said loudly. "How gracious of you to join us."
Elias kept walking.
Lang frowned. "We were just discussing the concept of narrative authority. But I suppose authority is unfamiliar territory for someone like you."
Snickers.
Elias sat in the back.
Lang turned to the board. "Now then, let's see who's actually doing the work. Mr. Ward, why don't you come up and read from the passage I assigned last night?"
He didn't move.
"Do I need to repeat myself?"
Elias stood. Walked slowly to the front.
Lang handed him the book.
Elias didn't take it.
Just stared at the professor.
His eyes burned faint gold.
Lang blinked. "What's wrong with—"
The air behind him cracked.
Not loudly.
Not even visually.
Just a sharp shift in pressure.
Everyone in the room felt it.
Like something ancient had blinked.
Lang stumbled forward, dropping the book.
He stared around wildly, eyes wide.
"What was—what—did the lights flicker?"
They hadn't.
No one answered.
Lang backed away from Elias.
The class was dead silent.
Then Elias spoke, low.
"I don't like being spoken down to."
Lang swallowed.
Elias turned.
Walked out of the classroom.
No one stopped him.
Back in the hallway, the system spoke again.
"You enjoyed that."
He didn't deny it.
"Leak registered."
"Energy residue: detectable."
"Suppression unit may respond."
He kept walking.
Outside, the sky cracked with distant thunder.