Morning patrol in District Three felt like walking through a graveyard where the corpses hadn't stopped breathing yet.
Lira moved through fog-thick streets with her squad fanning out in standard formation—Ren on point, Tessa covering the left flank, Jalen watching their backs. Their boots struck wet stone in synchronized rhythm, a sound that should have been comforting in its predictability. Instead, it felt like counting down to something inevitable.
She touched her report tablet through her coat pocket. Still there.
The omission sat in her gut like swallowed glass—sharp, wrong, impossible to ignore. She'd filed incident reports for six years. Never once had she deliberately withheld information. Never once had she shaped truth into something more convenient than accurate.
Until now.
Her justification played on repeat in her head like a mantra designed to drown out guilt: He was the target, not the cause. Protecting him is protecting the city.
The logic was sound. Technically accurate. The Beckoned had reached for Arin, not emerged because of him. The distinction mattered.
Or at least she needed it to matter.
"Officer Caelis," Ren called from ahead, his deep voice cutting through morning haze. "Structural inspection point twelve. Your assessment?"
Lira moved forward, grateful for the distraction. A pressure valve junction sat half-exposed where recent tremors had cracked the protective casing. Resonance conduits pulsed beneath translucent panels—steady, but not quite synchronized.
She pressed her palm against the housing. Felt the rhythm. Counted beats.
"Functional but degraded," she reported. "Flag it for engineering review. Non-urgent but shouldn't wait more than a week."
Ren nodded and made the notation.
Tessa drifted closer, scanning the surrounding buildings with her modified utility lenses. "Quiet morning," she observed. Too casual.
Lira knew that tone. Tessa was fishing.
"Quiet's good," Lira replied neutrally.
"Yeah. Except the desk officers were loud last night when I dropped off equipment." Tessa adjusted her lenses, still not looking directly at Lira. "Lot of chatter about recent disturbances. Apparently Commander Sera requested something specific."
Lira's pulse spiked. She kept her expression flat. "Sera requests things constantly. That's what commanders do."
"Sure. But this one was unusual." Tessa finally turned to face her. "Civilian names. Anyone recorded near the Beckoned incident or the subsequent tremors. Every patrol report from the past week getting cross-referenced."
The words landed like blows.
Every muscle in Lira's body wanted to tense. To run. To immediately check her reports for gaps that might expose what she'd hidden.
Instead, she shrugged. "Standard procedure after major incidents. They're building a witness list."
"That's what I figured." Tessa's gaze lingered a moment too long. "Just seemed strange. Thought you'd want to know."
She moved off to check another junction point, leaving Lira standing in fog that suddenly felt thicker.
They knew the culprit had been there.
They just didn't know who.
Lira's mind spun through possibilities like shuffling cards, trying to find the one that wouldn't destroy everything:
A witness from the crowd? Possible. Dozens of people had gathered after the fissure stabilized.
Another patrol officer? More likely. Multiple units had responded.
Someone from the Archives tracking Arin's movements? That thought made her stomach drop. If anyone had connected Arin's location to the disturbances...
"Lira?" Jalen's voice pulled her back. "You good?"
"Fine." She forced movement back into her legs. "Let's finish the route."
They moved on. Fog swallowing their footsteps.
*******
The break room at mid-patrol smelled like burned coffee and institutional resignation.
Lira spotted Maira immediately—sitting alone near the window, shoulders hunched, fingers wrapped around a cup she wasn't drinking. The young officer looked like someone carrying weight she hadn't asked for.
Lira knew that feeling intimately.
She grabbed her own cup—more for cover than thirst—and crossed the room with deliberate casualness. Sat down across from Maira without asking permission.
"Morning, Veld."
Maira's head snapped up. Her expression flickered through surprise, guilt, defensiveness, then settled on something apologetic.
"Officer Caelis. I—" She stopped. Started again. "I need to talk to you."
"Then talk."
Maira glanced around. The break room was mostly empty—just two clerks in the far corner, deep in their own conversation. She leaned forward anyway, lowering her voice.
"The report I filed. After the Beckoned incident." Her fingers tightened on her cup. "I think... I think I might have made things worse."
Lira's pulse hammered. She kept her tone level. "How?"
"I was on patrol that night and a little into the morning. Providing perimeter support when your unit established containment around the fissure." Maira's words came faster, like confession or apology. "I remember seeing you with someone. A young man—copper-brown hair, tall but lean build. Worker's Quarter look to him."
Lira forced herself to take a slow sip of coffee. "Lots of civilians were present during the incident. We had to evacuate the immediate area."
"I know. But this was different." Maira's voice dropped further. "I watched the Beckoned emerge. Saw it scan the perimeter. And then it... stopped. Focused. On him specifically. The one standing next to you."
Fuck.
"The entity's movements were erratic," Lira said carefully. "Hard to determine intent from manifestation behavior."
"That's what I told myself at first." Maira met her eyes. "But then the threads—the resonance patterns—they pulled toward him. Not toward the fissure. Not scattered like they should have been. Toward him. Like recognition. And he didn't run. Even though he looked scared, he watched it back."
Lira's mind raced. Maira had seen the connection. Had witnessed the moment the Beckoned recognized Arin as an Anchor. Had observed everything Lira had been desperately trying to hide.
"Did you get a name?" Lira asked, voice carefully neutral.
"No. You told me to fall back to the next block remember?." Maira's hands trembled slightly around her cup. "But I filed the description anyway. Everything I observed. His appearance, his location relative to you, the way the Beckoned reacted to him specifically. Standard witness documentation."
"That's protocol," Lira said.
"I know. But..." Maira hesitated. "Commander Sera pulled my report this morning. Specifically. Asked follow-up questions about the individual's behavior and his proximity to you during the incident. Whether I thought he was somehow connected to the manifestation. Whether I'd recognize him if I saw him again."
Lira's blood went cold. "What did you tell her?"
"The truth. That the Beckoned appeared to recognize him." Maira's voice dropped further. "She asked if I thought you were protecting him. I said I couldn't make that assessment based on what I'd observed—that you were managing civilian safety as trained."
Which was diplomatic enough to avoid direct accusation while leaving the question open.
"And then?" Lira pressed.
"She thanked me. Then told me not to discuss the observation with anyone else. Said the inquiry was sensitive and that speculation could compromise the investigation." Maira's eyes searched Lira's face. "But here's what I don't understand—she didn't seem interested in finding him. She seemed interested in whether anyone else was looking for him."
That stopped Lira's thoughts mid-spin.
That didn't add up.
"Veld," Lira said carefully, "you filed what you observed. That's what we're trained to do. You didn't make things worse—you followed procedure."
"Then why do I feel like I just put a target on someone's back?" Maira's voice carried genuine distress. "I keep thinking... what if he was just a civilian who got too close? What if the Beckoned's reaction was random or misinterpreted? What if my report condemns someone who was just in the wrong place?"
Lira couldn't answer honestly.
"The investigation will determine context," Lira said instead. "If he's innocent, that'll become clear."
It sounded hollow even as she said it.
Maira studied her face with uncomfortable perception. "You know who he is, don't you? You guys seemed very close."
The question landed like a blade between ribs—precise, unavoidable.
Lira held her gaze. "I know a lot of people in this district. Part of the job."
"That's not what I asked."
"It's the answer you're getting." Lira's tone hardened slightly. "Because whatever you think you saw, whatever conclusions you're drawing—speculation helps no one. File your observations. Let the investigation run its course. And trust that the people responsible for civilian safety are doing their jobs."
Maira flinched slightly at the rebuke. But her expression shifted from guilt to something more determined.
"I do trust that, Officer Caelis. That's why I'm talking to you." She lowered her voice to barely above a whisper. "Because if that young man is in danger—not from what he is but from what people will do to him because of it—then maybe the investigation isn't where he needs protection from."
The words hung between them like smoke.
Lira's estimation of Maira Veld shifted abruptly. The young officer wasn't just following protocol blindly. She was thinking. Connecting implications. And offering something that looked uncomfortably like alliance.
"What are you asking me?" Lira said quietly.
"Nothing." Maira stood, dumping her untouched coffee into the sink. "Just... if someone needed forty-eight hours to disappear from certain records before cross-referencing reached completion... I might remember that my report had some ambiguities that needed clarification. Might take me a day or two to provide that clarification if I was thorough enough about reviewing my notes."
She left before Lira could respond.
Lira sat alone in the break room, staring at her own untouched cup.
Maira had seen everything. Had documented it accurately. Had drawn the correct conclusions about danger.
And was offering to slow her own report's processing. Buying time through deliberate bureaucratic inefficiency.
Protection from an unexpected source. But they needed all the help and time they could get.
The window was still narrow—hours at best—but maybe slightly wider than Lira had feared.
She crushed the paper cup in her hand.
The Warden Office felt different when she returned from her afternoon shift.
Same grey-blue walls. Same metallic beams reinforcing high ceilings. Same organized chaos of officers moving through their duties with practiced efficiency.
But something had shifted in the atmosphere—a tension wound tight beneath surface normalcy. Like everyone was waiting for something to break.
Lira moved toward the operations wing, planning to file her patrol report—another carefully edited document that would join the growing collection of shaped truths she was building.
A clerk intercepted her before she reached the desk.
Young. Nervous. The kind who delivered bad news with apologetic expressions.
"Officer Caelis," he said, voice pitched too high. "Commander Sera has requested your presence. Immediately. Private office."
The words hit like falling stones.
Lira's training kept her face neutral. "Did she say why?"
"No, ma'am. Just that it was urgent."
This was wrong. Protocol dictated requests went through Lieutenant Seris first—chain of command existed for reasons. Sera bypassing it meant one of two things: either this was official enough to override standard procedure, or unofficial enough to avoid documentation.
Neither option felt reassuring.
"Understood. Thank you."
The clerk fled like he'd delivered plague notification.
Lira turned toward the command corridor. Felt eyes on her back—other officers noting her summons, making their own calculations about what it meant.
Across the room, Kael stood near the equipment lockers. Their eyes met. His expression shifted through concern, question, then settled on something protective. He took a half-step forward, clearly planning to intercept.
Lira shook her head once.
Not now. Not here.
Kael's jaw tightened but he stayed put. Smart man.
The walk to Sera's office felt longer than physics allowed. Each step echoed too loud. Each breath tasted metallic with anxiety.
Lira ran through scenarios:
Best case: routine follow-up on the Beckoned incident. Clarification questions. Professional courtesy.
Worst case: Sera had connected enough threads to expose Lira's omissions. Suspension pending investigation. Arin exposed in the process.
Middle ground: Sera suspected something but lacked proof. This was a fishing expedition. Pressure to see what Lira would reveal under scrutiny.
She reached the door.
Knocked twice.
"Enter."
Lira stepped inside.
*******
Sera's office was exactly what you'd expect from someone who weaponized stillness.
Austere. Functional. No personal touches beyond professional necessity. Maps covered one wall—Caelum's districts rendered in precise detail, annotated with markers Lira couldn't read from this distance. The desk was clear except for a single tablet and a cup of something that had gone cold hours ago.
Sera herself stood near the window, back to the door. Her dark hair was braided with military precision. The scar along her jaw caught afternoon light filtering through fog.
"Close the door," Sera said without turning. "And lock it."
Lira did.
The lock engaged with a soft click.
"Sit."
Lira sat in the single chair positioned across from the desk.
Sera turned finally. Moved to her desk with controlled grace. Lowered herself into the opposite chair with the careful economy of someone whose body remembered combat even if it no longer actively practiced.
Her pale-blue eyes studied Lira's face.
"This conversation," Sera began, voice level, "is off the record. Nothing said here gets filed. Nothing gets documented. If asked later, we discussed routine patrol protocols and equipment requisitions. Understood?"
"Yes, Commander."
"Good." Sera leaned back slightly. "Tell me about the Beckoned incident. Your version. Not the report you filed—what actually happened."
Lira's mind raced. This was a trap. Had to be. Sera was inviting a confession, creating rope for Lira to hang herself with.
But something in the commander's tone didn't match interrogation. Didn't carry the sharp edge of someone building a case.
It sounded almost... sympathetic.
"The fissure appeared during early morning patrol," Lira began carefully, sticking close to filed facts while watching for reactions. "Resonance disturbance significant enough to trigger containment protocols. My unit was not on patrol but I was there at the time."
"And the Beckoned?" Sera prompted.
"Emerged from the fissure. Physical manifestation lasted approximately four minutes before destabilizing. No casualties. Minimal property damage. Standard response procedures proved adequate."
All true.
Sera nodded slowly. "Your report was thorough. Detailed. Professional." Pause. "Also incomplete."
Lira's pulse spiked. She kept her breathing steady. "I documented everything relevant to—"
"You documented everything safe to document," Sera corrected gently. "Which is different. And interesting."
The word hung between them like smoke.
Lira said nothing. Old instinct: when trapped, don't give more information than demanded.
Sera studied her for a long moment. Then spoke words that made Lira's blood freeze:
"The Council is looking for him. I'd prefer if they don't find him."
Him.
Not "the individual." Not "potential witnesses." Him. Singular. Specific. Male.
Sera shouldn't know that. Couldn't know that unless—
Lira forced her expression to stay neutral despite panic screaming through her thoughts. "Commander, I'm not sure what you—"
"Some people," Sera continued, almost conversational, "are caught in the wrong place when the wrong forces move. They don't deserve to be devoured by politics. Or by councils more interested in control than understanding."
The words landed carefully. Deliberately. Each one weighted with meaning Lira couldn't quite parse.
Was this a test? A trap? Or something else entirely?
"I don't understand," Lira said. True enough.
Sera's expression shifted—something almost like approval flickering across her scarred features. "Good. Confusion is safer than certainty right now." She tapped the tablet on her desk. "I've delayed the cross-departmental inquiry into civilian presence near recent disturbances. Delayed. A week, maybe two before someone with more authority pushes it through."
One week.
Barely enough time to breathe, but she would have to make do.
"Why are you telling me this?" Lira asked quietly.
"Because I need you to understand something." Sera leaned forward. "What's already filed is filed. What isn't filed doesn't exist yet. And I strongly recommend you don't suddenly remember details you failed to include in your initial reports. Corrections right now would only draw attention. Do you understand?"
Understanding crashed through Lira like cold water.
Sera was protecting her. Preventing Lira from incriminating herself further. Creating space for the omissions to remain unnoticed.
Which meant Sera knew. About the gaps. About the shaped truths. About Arin.
"Commander—" Lira started.
"He is someone," Sera interrupted, voice dropping to something almost confidential, "who cannot be examined by the wrong hands. Not because he's dangerous. Because the examination itself would be. The city's safety and his as well, depends on him remaining... unobserved. For now."
The words settled over Lira like a weighted blanket—comforting and suffocating simultaneously.
Sera knew what Arin was. Or suspected strongly enough to act on it.
And she was choosing to protect him.
"Why?" Lira asked. The question came out smaller than intended.
Sera's expression softened into something that might have been regret under different circumstances. "Because I've seen what happens when the Council identifies Anchors before they're ready. Seen talented, innocent people destroyed by their investigations. I won't watch it happen again." She paused. "Not if I can prevent it."
Again.
Understanding crystallized into certainty: Sera wasn't just protecting Arin. She was trying to atone.
"What do you need from me?" Lira asked quietly.
"Nothing you're not already doing," Sera replied. "Keep him close. Keep him hidden. And for the love of the Veil, make sure he doesn't trigger any more public disturbances for as long as possible. After that..." She trailed off. "After that, we'll have different problems."
Lira nodded slowly.
Sera stood. Conversation clearly ending. "You're dismissed, Officer Caelis. And remember—if anyone asks, we discussed equipment requisitions. Specifically your squad's need for updated resonance detectors."
"Yes, Commander."
Lira moved toward the door. Hand on the lock. About to open it.
"And Lira?"
She turned back.
Sera's expression had gone carefully blank. Professional mask firmly in place. But her voice carried weight that could crush through stone.
"If anyone asks... I never spoke to you today."
Lira understood perfectly.
"Understood, Commander. Thank you."
She left.
*******
Kael intercepted her near the equipment bay. Fell into step beside her without asking permission, because that was how Kael operated.
"You look like someone just confirmed the worst," he observed quietly. "What did Sera want?"
"To give me a week." Lira kept walking. Needed movement. Needed space to process. "Maybe two if we're lucky."
Kael's expression went sharp. "A week before what?"
"Before the cross-departmental inquiry finishes. Before they start matching descriptions to names." She stopped, turned to face him. "Maira filed a report. Saw everything. The Beckoned recognizing Arin. The resonance threads pulling toward him. All of it."
"Fuck." Kael's jaw tightened. "Does she know what he is?"
"She suspects enough to be dangerous. But she's buying us time—deliberately slowing her report clarification." Lira exhaled. "And Sera... Sera knows, Kael. Knows what Arin is. And she's protecting him."
Kael processed that for three heartbeats. "The Commander is on our side?"
"For now. She delayed the inquiry. Told me not to file any corrections that might expose gaps in my reports." Lira's voice dropped. "She said she's seen what happens when the Council identifies Anchors. Said she won't watch it happen again."
"Again," Kael repeated slowly. "The last Anchor. Torven. A century ago." Understanding flickered across his features
"And now she's trying to prevent history from repeating." Lira met his eyes. "But a week isn't enough. Not for Arin to learn control. Not for Bram to teach him everything he needs to hide before the specialist arrives and he has to go for his assessment."
Kael was quiet for a moment, that calculating look he got when planning something probably inadvisable crossing his features.
"What if we create time?" he said finally.
"How?"
"The assessment requires specific equipment. Specialized resonance chambers. Qualified assessors from the High Circle." Kael's tone grew thoughtful. "Equipment can malfunction. Chambers can develop calibration issues. Assessors can get delayed by urgent matters in other districts."
Lira stared at him. "You're talking about sabotage."
"I'm talking about strategic equipment failures and scheduling conflicts. Very different things." His expression was perfectly innocent. Completely unconvincing. "Patrol duty gives me access to maintenance logs. And I know a few people who owe me favors in facilities management."
"Kael—"
"I'm not letting them take him," Kael interrupted, voice going hard. "I was there when Bram explained what Anchors are. What happens to them when the Council gets involved." He stepped closer. "Arin didn't ask for this. Didn't choose to become a target. And I'll be damned if I stand by while they study him to death like some specimen."
The words landed with weight. The same protective loyalty he'd shown that night in the greenhouse when everything had been revealed.
Lira felt something loosen in her chest—relief that she wasn't carrying this alone. That someone else understood the stakes. That Kael was doing this.
"How much time can you buy?" she asked quietly.
"A few days. Maybe a week if I'm creative enough." Kael's grin was sharp. Dangerous. "Equipment failures are tricky things. Take time to diagnose. Longer to repair. And calibration checks are very important. Can't rush those."
"And if someone traces it back to you?"
"They won't. I'm good at this." He adjusted his patrol belt. "Besides, I've got legitimate duties in District Five tonight. Long patrol route. Lots of ground to cover. If I happen to notice some concerning calibration drift in the Archives resonance equipment while conducting routine structural integrity checks... well, that's just responsible oversight, isn't it?"
Lira almost smiled despite the situation's gravity. "You're going to get us both court-martialed."
"Only if we fail." Kael's expression softened slightly. "And we're not going to fail. Because Arin's worth the risk. And because you'd do the same for me."
True. Entirely true.
"Thank you," Lira said quietly.
"Don't thank me yet. Thank me when Arin walks out of that assessment clean." He glanced toward the equipment bay doors, checking who might be within earshot. "I need to move. Got a meeting with a facilities engineer who happens to be very concerned about equipment reliability. Very concerned. Almost paranoid about it."
"Be careful."
"Careful is my middle name, but Lira—you need to tell Arin. About all of this. He deserves to know what we're risking for him."
"I know. I'm heading to Bram's now."
Kael nodded once.
"He's going to be okay," Kael said. "We'll make sure of it."
"We will," Lira agreed. Because what else could she say?
Kael squeezed her shoulder once—brief, grounding—then turned and walked toward the exit with that same casual confidence he brought to everything. Like he was heading to routine patrol instead of conspiracy and sabotage.
Lira watched him disappear into the flow of officers.
Then she turned toward the street exit.