The Room That Lies
They did not call it a training chamber.
They called it a Stabilization Hall.
That was the first lie.
Lira felt it the moment she stepped inside—an absence where safety should have been. The room was circular, its walls layered with translucent sigil-rings that rotated slowly, each one humming at a slightly different frequency. The floor wasn't stone, but something smoother. Warmer.
Alive, in a way she didn't like.
Marenne stopped at the threshold.
"I'm not allowed past this point," she said quietly. "Which means you're about to be pushed harder than they'll admit."
Lira nodded. Her hands were steady. Her stomach wasn't.
Caelum stood beside her, unreadable.
"I will remain within range," he said.
A Dominion handler—Edevra by the look of the sealing marks braided into her sleeves—inclined her head.
"You may observe," she said to Caelum. "You may not interfere."
Caelum's gaze sharpened.
"Define interfere."
The handler hesitated.
"…Any direct manipulation of resonance, causality, or emotional state."
Lira glanced at him.
"That includes… talking?"
The handler's lips pressed thin.
"Especially talking."
Caelum exhaled once through his nose.
"Inefficient," he murmured. But he stepped back.
Not far.
Never far.
Anchor Theory (The Sanitized Version)
They seated Lira in the center of the chamber.
No restraints.
That was the second lie.
A Pyrell resonance-reader approached, her eyes lit faintly crimson, soulflame licking along her pupils.
"Anchors," the woman said, voice calm, practiced, "exist to absorb instability. You ground anomalies. You prevent cascade failure."
Lira listened.
"Most anchors break," the woman continued. "They panic. They cling. They drown."
Her gaze locked onto Lira.
"You did not."
Lira swallowed.
"You aligned," the woman said. "That is not instinct. That is choice."
The sigil-rings around the chamber sped up—just a little.
"Today," the woman said, "we test whether your choice holds under pressure."
Lira's bond stirred uneasily.
Caelum felt it.
He did not move.
Pressure Is Introduced Carefully
At first, it was subtle.
A hum.
A tightening in the air.
Lira felt her thoughts slow—not blur, but stretch, like time was pulling them apart to see what broke first.
"Breathe," the Edevra handler said.
Lira did.
The bond responded automatically, a faint silver warmth spreading through her chest.
The chamber reacted.
The sigil-rings brightened.
"Good," the Pyrell woman murmured. "Your resonance seeks him even without stimulus."
Caelum's jaw tightened.
Then the real pressure began.
The Simulation
The floor dissolved.
Not literally—conceptually.
Suddenly Lira was standing in the Weeping Forest again.
Mist.
Roots.
The smell of blood-sap.
Her breath hitched.
"No," she whispered.
The Pyrell woman's voice echoed from nowhere and everywhere.
"Simulation only," she said. "Your mind remembers the pattern. We are simply… replaying it."
The bond flared.
Caelum felt the echo slam into him like a delayed punch.
He took a sharp breath.
The handler stiffened.
"His response is escalating," she warned.
Lira turned slowly in the false forest.
She knew this place.
She hated this place.
The air thickened.
Something moved between the trees.
Her hands trembled.
Don't panic.
Don't cling.
She remembered Caelum's voice—not words, but presence.
Cold.
Steady.
Unyielding.
She reached for the bond—
And the simulation bit back.
Pain lanced through her chest as the sigil-rings spiked, forcing feedback through the connection.
Lira cried out.
Caelum stepped forward instinctively.
"Hold," the handler snapped. "If you interfere—"
"She is being overdriven," Caelum said, voice sharp. "This exceeds stabilization parameters."
"That is the point," the Pyrell woman replied calmly. "Anchors fail when reality refuses to cooperate."
The forest darkened.
The entity's shadow pressed in.
Lira's knees buckled.
She tasted iron.
Her vision blurred—
Then she laughed.
It startled everyone.
Including Caelum.
Lira's Choice
"I get it now," Lira whispered, breath shaking.
The forest froze.
"What?" the Pyrell woman asked.
"You think anchoring is about holding him back," Lira said. "About damping him. Containing him."
Her voice steadied.
"But that's wrong."
She straightened slowly, meeting the phantom darkness without flinching.
"It's about standing where he stands," she said. "Not pulling him down."
The bond surged.
Not violently.
Cleanly.
Silver light flooded the chamber—not from Caelum to her, but from her to him.
The sigil-rings screamed.
The simulation shattered like glass.
Lira collapsed to one knee, gasping.
Silence followed.
Real silence.
The handler stared at the readouts in horror.
"She… inverted the anchor flow."
The Pyrell woman's eyes widened.
"That's impossible."
Caelum was already at Lira's side, catching her before she fell.
This time—
No one stopped him.
Aftermath
Lira clung to his sleeve, breath ragged.
"I didn't push you away," she whispered. "I didn't pull you in."
She looked up at him.
"I stood with you."
For a long moment, Caelum said nothing.
The bond hummed—stable, stronger, altered.
"You reframed the anchor role," he said quietly.
"…Is that bad?" she asked weakly.
His lips curved, just slightly.
"It is catastrophic for anyone trying to control you," he said.
Behind them, the Dominion handlers were already arguing in hushed, urgent tones.
"She shouldn't be able to do that."
"That violates anchor doctrine."
"She's not just stabilizing—she's synchronizing agency—"
Voss arrived mid-argument, gaze snapping to Lira.
"What happened?" she demanded.
Caelum answered.
"She refused to be a leash."
Voss looked at Lira.
Then, slowly—
She smiled.
The Price Reveals Itself
That night, long after Lira finally slept—exhausted, dreaming of silver threads and standing trees—
Caelum stood alone on the academy's highest balcony.
The sky above Ashthorne shimmered faintly, reality still adjusting.
The entity stirred beneath the stone.
Interesting, it whispered.
The Anchor learns alignment.
The Bearer learns restraint.
Caelum closed his eyes.
For the first time since his reincarnation—
He felt something close to uncertainty.
Not fear.
Expectation.
"They will come for her differently now," he murmured.
The entity laughed softly.
Of course they will.
She is no longer your weakness.
She is your direction.
Caelum opened his eyes.
The academy below slept uneasily.
Good.
Let it.