The city looks the same. Neon lights flicker. Cars hum along wet asphalt. People hustle past, mouths full of coffee and complaints about traffic.
All of it lies.
Because beneath the surface, the city is screaming.
I feel it.
The pit beneath Meridian Tower pulses faintly, like a heartbeat I'm connected to. Each thrum sends a ripple up my spine. The fracture inside me tingles. Someone—or something—is waiting. And it's not patient.
Lucien is already there when I arrive at the prearranged meeting spot. A rooftop terrace, abandoned except for the night breeze and the city lights sprawled below. He doesn't smile. He doesn't relax. He simply watches.
"You're early," I say, trying to sound casual.
"Being early is strategic," he replies. Calm. Precise. Always precise.
I glance at him. Always watching, always calculating. I hate that about him. And yet… there's value in his presence.
"Did the Covenant move already?" I ask.
"They're en route. Full protocol," Lucien says, his eyes scanning the streets below like a predator. "Three units. Highly trained. They know your abilities."
I smirk. "Then they underestimate me. Classic mistake."
Lucien tilts his head. "Or you overestimate yourself."
He's right.
A faint hum rises from the streets. Subtle. But deliberate. A signal? Possibly.
I know what that means. The Covenant isn't just coming—they're organizing. Strategizing. Coordinated. And in coordinated situations, chaos is expensive.
"Show me what they've got," I say.
Lucien doesn't hesitate. He gestures toward the city, taps his watch. Holographic blueprints flicker in the air between us, faint but precise:
Entry points.
Magic suppression fields.
Reinforced units.
Magical reconnaissance drones.
I frown. "They've planned for me."
"They plan for everything," Lucien says. "Including failure."
I glance at him. "Are you planning for mine?"
He meets my gaze. "Yes."
There's that thrill again. Risk. Uncertainty. Calculated danger. I love it.
—
Minutes later, the first Covenant unit hits the street. Black suits, silver insignia. They move like ghosts, disciplined, silent, efficient. Their magic pulses in controlled bursts, scanning for anomalies.
I step into the alley across from them, deliberately.
"Here they come," Lucien murmurs.
I grin. "About time."
The first unit notices me immediately. Their suppression glyphs ignite, precise streams of magical energy designed to neutralize me.
I let them hit me. Just a taste. Enough to feel their technique.
Then I move.
Faster than anticipated. The glyphs misfire, collide, arc unpredictably. Sparks fly. The air tastes like ozone.
I weave through the streets, leading them closer to the first thinning hotspot—the Meridan foundations below. Every step is controlled chaos. Every reaction, deliberate.
The Covenant follows. Efficient. Disciplined. But not infallible.
I glance at Lucien. He's observing. Calculating. Data collection. Always.
And I play into it.
—
Hours blur. The city becomes a battlefield. Not a public one—most people are oblivious—but a hidden war, layers above normal reality. Magic pulses beneath the asphalt. Shadows move unnaturally.
The Covenant is relentless. They coordinate their attacks, adaptive, strategic, efficient. But they don't anticipate the fracture within me. The part of me that refuses containment. That refuses obedience. That laughs at authority.
I feel it awaken fully as we near the pit.
The foundations below Meridian Tower shiver. Threads of the Veil throb with energy.
"This is it," I murmur. "The convergence begins."
Lucien nods. "Your mother left instructions for this moment. Or at least clues."
"Clues? You call this chaos a clue?"
"Every step you take, every breach you survive, was part of her design. You are the bridge she built. The trigger she intended."
I stop. "So this is what she meant by imprinting me?"
"Yes."
My mind races. I remember fragments. Childhood memories I dismissed: symbols etched into walls, faint chants, strange lessons from women who never smiled. Now it makes sense. She designed me to interact with the Veil. To survive thinning events. To shape outcomes.
And I hate her for it.
Lucien glances at me. "Hate is productive. It keeps you alive."
I smirk, but there's no humor. Only the weight of revelation.
—
The first convergence begins.
Threads of the Veil tear openly, thin as spider silk, shifting, pulsing with raw energy. The pit responds, almost alive, reaching for me. Hunger, curiosity, recognition.
The Covenant hesitates. Their units are skilled, but they weren't prepared for this. They weren't prepared for me interacting directly with the fracture.
I step closer. Not recklessly. Carefully. Deliberately.
The pit flares. Energy arcs from the cracks in the foundation, reaching for the fracture within me. I feel it. Pulling, testing, teasing.
The first agent lunges with a suppression glyph. I sidestep, letting it strike the ground. Arcane energy rebounds violently. Concrete cracks. The Veil shudders.
"Keep moving," I mutter to myself. "This is the test."
The entity's whisper reaches me again.
"You are the catalyst. Choose wisely."
I smile faintly. "I always choose me."
—
Covenant units fall back. Their tactics fail against the synergy between my internal fracture and the external Veil threads. Lucien watches, expression unreadable, cataloging every outcome.
I hear another voice behind me. Female. Controlled, chilling.
"Maison Elan."
I freeze.
One step, and the Veil trembles.
She emerges from the shadows of the street, black coat flowing, insignia of the Covenant glinting on her shoulder. She's small, unassuming—but her aura radiates authority and lethal intent.
"You're alive," she says softly. "I expected… collateral."
"Not dead yet," I reply.
Her lips curl faintly. "Good. That will make this more interesting."
She gestures, and more units emerge, magic humming, suppression fields igniting.
Lucien mutters, "She's one of their high-level enforcers. Controls multiple cells simultaneously. You'll need more than instinct now."
I feel the fracture pulse. The pit thrums below. Hunger, recognition, anticipation.
She steps closer. Every movement measured, every glance calculated.
"You're marked," she says. "And you will pay for it."
"I didn't ask for the mark," I say.
"Doesn't matter," she counters. "You were chosen. And now the Veil demands balance."
Balance.
The word tastes like poison in my mouth.
"Then we'll negotiate," I say, stepping forward.
She laughs softly. "Negotiation? With a fracture? Child, you're already in motion."
Magic flares across the streets. Reality bends faintly as the threads of the Veil become semi-visible. Shadows grow teeth. Light bends.
Lucien stands behind me, hands behind his back. "You have minutes before they attempt severance."
Minutes.
I inhale.
I step forward.
The female agent smiles. "Good. Let's see if the catalyst lives up to the legend."
The Veil pulses.
The city holds its breath.
And I realize: I don't just control chaos—I am chaos incarnate.