Kael leaves the plaza without being stopped, and that unsettles him more than the laughter ever did.
No guards fall into step behind him. No evaluator calls out his name. No Warden hand closes around his shoulder under the excuse of procedure. The city simply lets him go, as if he were never important enough to hold, as if Unbound does not mean dangerous so much as it means irrelevant.
Beyond the Awakening Plaza, the streets slope downward toward the Hollow. The stone underfoot changes as he walks, pale white giving way to gray, then to darker slabs worn smooth and shallow by generations of feet that crossed this way once and never returned. He remembers his mother telling him the city was built in layers because it never learned how to lift everyone at the same time.
People make room for him.
Not dramatically. Not enough to draw attention. Just small adjustments that add up. A half-step aside. A pause before crossing his path. Eyes that dip to his wrist and then slide away too quickly.
Word travels fast in Virellion.
"Unbound," someone mutters behind him.
Another voice answers, quieter. "Means no contract."
"Means no protection."
He keeps walking.
The strap of his satchel cuts into his shoulder as he adjusts it, grounding himself in the weight of what's inside. Rope that smells faintly of pitch. Chalk ground fine enough to cling to his fingers. A knife sharpened thin from too many passes over stone. Real things. Things that still work whether the city approves of you or not.
Near a vendor stall, a group of boys his age lingers longer than necessary. Their wrist bands glow faintly, fresh and proud, the light pulsing like a borrowed heartbeat. They stare without trying to hide it.
"What's the point of even showing up if you can't bind?" one of them asks, curiosity leaning toward something sharper.
Kael doesn't answer.
Another laughs. "Guess he wanted people to notice him."
His pace slows. Not sudden. Not aggressive. He turns his head just enough for them to see his eyes and have time to reconsider.
The laughter dies.
Not because he looks angry.
Because he looks like someone who has already decided how much effort they are worth.
They look away first.
He moves on.
The Hollow announces itself before the streets narrow. Damp stone, burnt ozone from failing rune-lamps, the faint metallic tang of blood-rust from pipes that should have been replaced decades ago. The air settles into the lungs and refuses to leave.
This is home.
Vendors pack up early, muttering about theft and permits that never come. Laborers argue over wages that will not change no matter how loudly they're shouted. Children run barefoot across cracked stone, hopping gaps they learned to judge before they learned to read.
No one congratulates him for being free.
Nyra waits near the junction where the main road fractures into thinner paths. She leans against a support beam, arms crossed, braid tucked beneath her hood like she expects to move fast. Her eyes lift the moment she sees him.
She doesn't smile.
"Well?" she asks.
He stops in front of her. "Unbound."
Nyra exhales slowly through her nose. "That's not a rank."
"No."
She studies him. "Is it bad?"
He considers the question longer than necessary. "It's inconvenient."
That pulls a short sound from her. "That's one way to say it."
She falls into step beside him, close without touching, the space between them deliberate.
"They didn't detain you," she says. "I watched from the side. Thought the Wardens would at least pretend to care."
"So did I."
Her gaze flicks to his wrist. "Nothing at all?"
He turns his hand over. "Nothing."
Nyra's mouth tightens. "The Pillar doesn't do nothing."
"I know."
They walk in silence. A cart rattles past with one wheel screaming in protest. A rune-lamp sparks and dies nearby, followed by curses. Deeper in the Hollow, metal clangs as scaffolding goes up for another repair that will barely hold.
"You felt it," Nyra says at last.
He doesn't ask how she knows. She notices things.
"Yes," he says. "It hesitated."
She stops, forcing him to do the same. "That's not normal."
"No."
"The system doesn't hesitate," she says quietly. "It sorts. Labels. Moves on."
He looks past her, down a narrow street where the stone dips unevenly. "It didn't know where to put me."
Nyra swallows. "That makes you a problem."
"For me."
"And for anyone too close."
They turn down a side path. As they do, a faint pressure settles behind his ribs, like the moment before a storm breaks. It isn't pain. It isn't fear. Just awareness, subtle enough to miss if he weren't already paying attention.
The building they share waits ahead, narrow and patched between older ones, held together by mismatched stone and stubbornness. Kael takes the stairs two at a time, boots already knowing which ones creak.
Inside, the room smells of oil, dried herbs, and old heat trapped in stone. Nyra closes the door behind them and turns to face him fully.
"You're going to be watched," she says.
"I already was."
"Not like this." She gestures upward. "Unbound isn't failure. It's uncertainty. People hate not knowing where to look."
He leans back against the wall, letting his shoulders drop just enough to feel it. "So what do I do?"
Nyra studies him the way she studies weak supports and broken locks.
"You don't panic," she says. "You don't show off. And you don't start pulling on threads just because you want to see what unravels."
His mouth twitches. "That was the plan."
"Good."
She reaches into her pocket and tosses him a cloth wrap. Bread and a strip of dried meat. The good kind.
"Eat," she says. "You didn't fail. You just didn't fit."
He takes it and nods once. "Neither did you."
A brief smirk. "Still don't."
As he eats, the pressure remains. It hasn't grown or faded. It feels settled, like something that noticed him and decided to keep track.
For a second, the air sharpens. Clean. Metallic. Gone almost as soon as he registers it.
Nothing moves. Nothing announces itself.
But the sensation lingers.
Sitting in a small room with peeling stone and a full stomach for the first time that day, Kael understands something he didn't at the plaza.
Being ignored would have been safer.
Whatever happened at the Pillar didn't make him powerful.
It made him noticeable.
And in Virellion, being noticed always comes with a price.