Kai didn't like being summoned.
Especially not like this.
The message had come through official channels—short, precise, impossible to ignore.
REPORT TO OBSERVATION HALL C. IMMEDIATELY.
No explanation. No signature.
Kai stared at the words longer than necessary before locking his device and standing.
"Figures," he muttered.
Observation Hall C was older than the rest of the academy. The walls were thicker, the lights dimmer, the air faintly metallic. A place built for containment rather than teaching.
Kai stepped inside.
Two instructors waited for him. One he recognized.
The other—
His jaw tightened.
"You've grown," the man said, voice calm, assessing. "But then again, you always did."
Kai inclined his head politely. "Sir."
The title tasted wrong.
"How long has it been?" the man continued. "Six years? Seven?"
"Long enough," Kai replied evenly.
The instructor beside the man shifted, uncomfortable.
Good.
"Your recent evaluations are… exceptional," the man said, activating a projection. Data streamed through the air—control ratings, output efficiency, recovery speed.
Perfect lines.
"Yet," the man continued, "you're holding back."
Kai met his gaze.
"No," he said. "I'm obeying protocol."
The man smiled faintly. "That is what concerns me."
Silence stretched.
The lights hummed.
Elsewhere in the academy, Iris paused mid-step.
She felt it again—that tightening in her chest. The subtle shift in the air, as if something nearby was being forced into a shape it didn't want.
She pressed a hand to the wall, steadying herself.
"Kai…?" she whispered, though she didn't know why.
Back in Observation Hall C, the man circled Kai slowly.
"You were trained to exceed limits," he said. "Not live beneath them."
Kai's fingers curled once.
Then relaxed.
"That training ended," he said.
"Training doesn't end," the man replied. "It waits."
Kai's eyes flickered—just for a moment.
The man noticed.
"Something's changed you," the man said. "A variable we didn't account for."
Kai didn't answer.
"Iris Vale," the man continued.
The name landed like a strike.
The air in the room shifted—pressure blooming outward, lights flickering once before stabilizing.
The instructor gasped softly.
Kai exhaled.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The pressure vanished.
"Do not," Kai said quietly, "use her name."
The man studied him with renewed interest.
"So it's true," he murmured. "You've found an anchor."
Kai's voice was cold. "You don't get to define what she is."
The man stepped back, hands raised slightly—not in surrender, but in calculation.
"Be careful, Kai," he said. "Anchors can stabilize."
He leaned closer.
"Or they can drag everything down with them."
Kai met his gaze, unflinching.
"Then I'll carry the weight," he said.
Later, alone on the academy balcony, Kai stared out at the city.
His reflection in the glass looked calm.
Controlled.
Perfect.
His hands shook just enough for him to notice.
Far away, in the lower districts, Lucien felt an unfamiliar pressure ripple through the shadows—brief, contained, but powerful.
The Shadow System reacted instantly.
Alert: High-level restraint detected.
Lucien frowned. "Restraint?"
Yes.
Lucien looked toward the distant lights of the academy.
"…Interesting."
Kai closed his eyes.
Whatever he had been made for—
Whatever he had escaped—
It was catching up.
And this time, Iris was standing too close to the fault line.