The patrols did not leave.
That was how Kael knew something had changed.
Normally, Authority sweeps through the Lower District were brief—loud, invasive, and temporary. A reminder. A show of dominance. They came, frightened people into submission, and vanished before dawn.
This time, the footsteps kept returning.
Metal against stone.Measured. Patient.
They were not searching randomly.
They were narrowing.
Kael sat on the floor of his room, knees drawn up, listening to the rhythm of boots echo through the passages above. Each step landed with unnatural clarity, enhanced by Authority so that no one below could pretend not to hear them.
Lira sat across from him, her back against the wall, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She had not spoken in several minutes.
Fear changed people in different ways.
For Kael, it sharpened thought into a blade.
For Lira, it made her still.
Too still.
"Lira," Kael said quietly.
She looked up immediately. "Yes?"
"If they come back," he said, choosing his words carefully, "you don't argue. You leave through the back passage."
Her jaw tightened. "And you?"
"I'll draw them away."
She shook her head. "You don't know where they'll go."
"I know they won't follow you if I'm moving."
Silence stretched between them.
"You always talk like you're already gone," she said softly.
Kael didn't answer.
Because some part of him felt like he already was.
A sharp clang echoed nearby.
Closer.
Lira flinched.
Kael's gaze snapped to the door.
The pressure returned—not heavy this time, but probing. Like fingers tapping along invisible seams in the air.
Authority searching for something that didn't fit.
His skin prickled.
His wrist burned faintly beneath his sleeve.
Not yet, he thought.Please… not yet.
The boots stopped just outside.
A voice cut through the silence.
"Authority sweep. Open the door."
Lira's breath hitched.
Kael stood.
"Don't," she whispered, grabbing his sleeve.
He gently pulled free.
"I'll handle this," he said.
The door rattled as something struck it—once, deliberately.
"Final warning," the voice said.
Kael placed his hand on the latch.
For a brief moment, he wondered what would happen if he did nothing.
If he stayed silent.
If he let them break the door down and drag him out.
Would they see him then?
Or would their eyes still slide past him, confused, unsettled, unable to understand why they were afraid?
The latch clicked.
Kael opened the door.
Two guards stood outside, armor marked with fresh silver lines—Authority reinforcement. Their eyes flicked past Kael instinctively, scanning the room behind him.
Lira shrank back.
"There's a healer here," one guard said sharply. "Unauthorized."
Kael stepped sideways, blocking their view.
"She's leaving," he said.
The guards' gazes snapped to him.
Their expressions shifted—not recognition, but irritation.
Like noticing an obstacle rather than a person.
"And you are?" the taller guard demanded.
Kael met his eyes.
For a split second, something flickered there.
Confusion.
Then annoyance.
"…Name?" the guard repeated.
Kael opened his mouth—
And the pressure surged.
Not from the guards.
From above.
From everywhere.
The air thickened.
The guards stiffened.
"What the—?" one muttered.
The Authority lines on their armor pulsed erratically.
Kael felt something inside him strain—like a thread being pulled too tight.
Stop, he begged himself.Don't let it happen.
His vision blurred.
His heartbeat roared in his ears.
The world seemed to tilt, lines bending slightly out of alignment.
"Step back," the taller guard barked, suddenly uneasy. "Both of you."
Lira stumbled to her feet.
Kael raised his hands slowly.
"I'm leaving," he said. "Just… let her go."
The guards hesitated.
Authority never hesitated.
That alone terrified them.
Behind them, footsteps echoed again—heavier, slower.
A third presence entered the passage.
Kael didn't need to look to know who it was.
The pressure sharpened instantly.
The guards straightened.
"Executor," they said in unison, stepping aside.
A silver-robed figure emerged from the shadows.
Not the same one from the Registry.
This man was older. His silver insignia was layered with fine fractures, like a blade used too many times.
His eyes settled on Kael.
And this time—
They did not slide away.
They stayed.
Kael's chest tightened painfully.
"So," the Executor said calmly, "you're the irregular."
Lira gasped.
Kael didn't speak.
The Executor tilted his head slightly. "Interesting. You feel… incomplete."
Kael swallowed.
"Release the healer," the Executor continued. "She's not the anomaly."
One guard hesitated. "Sir, the protocol—"
"Is irrelevant," the Executor said softly.
Lira looked at Kael, eyes wide and panicked.
He nodded once.
Go.
She didn't move.
The Executor sighed. "Child, if you stay, you die."
That did it.
Lira stumbled past the guards and disappeared into the darkness, her footsteps fading quickly.
Kael watched until she was gone.
Only then did he exhale.
The Executor stepped closer.
Up close, the man smelled faintly of metal and ozone.
"You shouldn't exist," the Executor said conversationally. "And yet, here you are."
Kael clenched his fists.
"Kill me or leave," he said. "Just decide."
The Executor chuckled. "Oh, we won't kill you."
He leaned in slightly.
"We want to understand you."
Kael's wrist burned hotter.
The mark pulsed.
The Executor's eyes flicked down.
"…Ah."
The pressure spiked violently.
Kael screamed.
Not in pain—
In defiance.
Something snapped.
The world lurched.
Authority lines—normally invisible—flickered into view around them, bending and warping like reflections in broken glass.
The Executor staggered back, shock flashing across his composed face.
"What—"
Kael felt it fully for the first time.
The pull.
The absence.
The terrifying freedom of being untethered.
The pressure vanished.
Not eased.
Erased.
The guards collapsed unconscious.
The Executor dropped to one knee, gasping.
Kael stood there, trembling, eyes wide.
I did this.
The Executor looked up at him with something dangerously close to awe.
"…Nullbound," he whispered.
That word felt heavy.
Final.
Kael's vision darkened at the edges.
His legs gave out.
As he fell, he saw a familiar figure watching from the far end of the passage.
Gray robes.
A soft smile.
The Archivist.
"Careful," the voice echoed gently in his mind."First awakenings always cost more than you expect."
Darkness swallowed Kael whole.
He woke somewhere unfamiliar.
Stone beneath him. Cold air. No walls he recognized.
His body ached like he'd been hollowed out.
When he tried to sit up, dizziness slammed into him.
"…Easy," a voice said.
Kael blinked.
An old man sat nearby, leaning on a gnarled staff, his eyes sharp despite his age.
"You broke something important," the man said calmly. "That tends to draw attention."
Kael stared at him.
"Who are you?"
The man smiled faintly.
"Someone who warned your father," he replied.
Kael's breath caught.
"And someone who told him to run."
The man's gaze hardened.
"He didn't listen."
Kael's chest tightened painfully.
"What… what am I?" Kael asked hoarsely.
The old man leaned closer.
"Dangerous," he said. "And late."
"Late for what?"
The man looked away.
"For the world's last mistake."
Far above them, unseen forces realigned.
And deep within Kael, something settled—
Not power.
But permission.
If surviving means breaking the rules—and breaking the rules means becoming a threat—how long before the world decides you must be erased?