The night swallowed me whole.
I didn't run—not in the way people expected. I walked, steadily, blending into shadows and crowds, my hood low, my presence dulled. Sirens wailed behind me as Academy responders flooded the district, sealing streets, questioning witnesses.
None of them looked at me twice.
That was the cruel efficiency of erasure.
[Memory erosion: Stabilizing.]
[Residual loss detected: Uncatalogued.]
Uncatalogued.
I didn't know what I'd lost, only that something inside me felt thinner, like a page torn from a book I could no longer remember owning.
By the time I reached the outer bridge, the Academy's spires loomed behind me—tall, bright, orderly.
Unchanged.
Of course they were.
I stopped at the midpoint of the bridge and looked back.
Twenty-five chapters ago—another life ago—I would have believed knowledge made places like that safe. That institutions, rules, and good intentions could contain anything if they were clever enough.
I knew better now.
"You'll cover it up," I murmured. "You always do."
And part of me understood why.
Panic would only accelerate collapse. Truth, in the wrong hands, could be another kind of erasure.
But silence had a cost.
And tonight, I had paid it in blood that no longer existed.
[Notice.]
[Provisional Accord: Compromised.]
I wasn't surprised.
Vaelith would piece it together quickly. Unauthorized erasure. Civilian zone. Ember of Oblivion's signature—even dampened, it was unmistakable to those who knew what to look for.
They wouldn't expose me.
They couldn't.
But they also wouldn't let me stay.
A choice, then—before it was taken from me.
I turned away from the Academy and continued across the bridge, leaving the city proper behind. The road narrowed, lanterns growing sparse, the air cooler and less saturated with managed mana.
Free.
And dangerous.
At the edge of the bridge, I stopped and reached inward, touching the Spell Archive.
Ember of Oblivion was quiet again—sealed, distant, heavy with what it had done.
The unnamed partition spell pulsed faintly, steady, almost comforting.
"Not you," I said softly. "You stay."
[Restriction reaffirmed.]
[Erasure spells: Locked behind emergency override.]
Good.
I exhaled slowly.
Footsteps approached behind me.
I didn't turn.
"You didn't even wait for morning," Vaelith said.
Her voice carried no anger. Only exhaustion.
"I couldn't," I replied. "If I stayed, you'd have to decide what to do with me."
She joined me at the railing, gazing out at the dark river below.
"You saved the district," she said. "We confirmed it."
"And lost a student," I replied.
She was silent for a long moment.
"He would have taken more with him," she said finally. "Eventually."
"That doesn't make it lighter."
"No," she agreed. "It doesn't."
We stood there, two figures bound by a secret neither could unlearn.
"You're leaving," she said.
"Yes."
"For good?"
I hesitated.
"No," I said at last. "For now."
She nodded, as if she'd expected that answer.
"The Academy will say you were reassigned," she said. "Independent field research. Dangerous zones."
"A lie," I said.
"A useful one."
I almost smiled.
She reached into her robe and produced a small crystal—duller than most, its facets uneven.
"A locator," she said. "One-way. If containment fails beyond our ability to stall… it will find you."
I took it.
The crystal was warm.
"Be careful," she added. "What you did tonight will echo."
"I know," I said quietly. "That's what scares me."
Vaelith stepped back, giving me space.
"Echo," she said, stopping me with my name.
I turned.
"Don't become the thing they'll need to erase."
I met her gaze steadily.
"I won't," I said.
Because I had already learned the difference between necessity and surrender.
I stepped off the bridge and onto the road beyond the Academy's reach.
Behind me, the spires stood tall—brilliant, ignorant, and fragile.
Ahead, the world stretched wide, riddled with forgotten spells, unstable seals, and consequences no one wanted to remember.
I adjusted my cloak and walked on.
The Guardian of Forgotten Spells had left the Academy.
Not in disgrace.
Not in triumph.
But carrying the weight of a choice that could never be undone.
And somewhere, deep within the world's hidden fractures—
The forgotten were watching.
Waiting to see what I would become next.