No one spoke.
Dax's body did not remain. Neither did Maelin's light. NULL did not permit remnants—not even grief's usual anchors. There was only the doorway, unchanged, and the platform stained by nothing at all.
Lyra sank to her knees.
Her hands were clenched so tightly her nails bit into her palms, but she made no sound. Shock had not released her yet. It never did at first.
Rook exhaled slowly through his nose, one breath, then another, recalibrating. Kael stood rigid, weapon lowered, eyes fixed on the invisible boundary that had claimed two lives without effort.
Eiran did not look back.
He was watching the doorway.
The interface pulsed again.
ATTRITION LOG UPDATED.
RECORDED ROLES:
– Utility Scout (Incomplete)
– Medicant (Rejected)
Below it, a second line appeared—subtle, almost apologetic.
LEADERSHIP CONTINUITY: MAINTAINED.
Eiran closed the interface.
"Kael," he said. "Distance."
Kael hesitated for half a second, then obeyed, stepping back until his heel brushed the edge of the stairs. The tower did not react.
"Rook. Sightline."
Rook adjusted his position, lowering his rifle and angling his body sideways, optics tracking the doorway's outline without crossing it.
"Lyra," Eiran said.
She did not respond.
He turned then.
Lyra's eyes were unfocused, her breathing shallow. She was still seeing something NULL had chosen not to show the rest of them.
Eiran crouched in front of her, careful not to block her peripheral vision.
"Lyra," he said again, quieter. "Answer me."
"…Maelin didn't even scream," she whispered.
"That means it was fast."
"That's not—"
"I know."
He waited until her breathing slowed, just slightly.
"You're still functional," he said. "That matters."
Her gaze snapped to him, sharp with sudden anger. "Two people just died."
"Yes."
"And you're already giving orders."
"Yes."
Silence stretched.
Then Kael spoke, voice rough. "Leader… was there anything we could've done?"
Eiran stood.
"No," he said. "And if I thought there was, I wouldn't be standing here."
That was not comfort.
It was truth.
The doorway began to change.
Not opening—aligning.
The absence at its center deepened, edges sharpening into definition. The space beyond it no longer felt empty. It felt occupied by rules that had finished deciding.
Eiran raised his hand.
"New formation," he said. "Three-person cell. No independent movement. If you feel resistance, stop immediately. If you lose spatial reference—freeze."
Rook nodded. Kael swallowed and adjusted his grip. Lyra forced herself to her feet, wiping her eyes with the heel of her hand.
"What about healing?" she asked quietly.
Eiran did not answer at first.
Then, "There is none," he said. "Not on this floor."
The doorway stabilized.
SYSTEM NOTICE:
FLOOR ONE ACTIVE.
THREAT TYPE: CONDITIONAL.
FAILURE RESPONSE: TERMINAL.
Eiran stepped forward, stopping at the boundary once more.
He did not cross.
Instead, he reached out—slowly, deliberately—until the tips of his fingers hovered a breath away from the invisible line.
Pressure built immediately, sharp and insistent, like a warning pressed directly into his bones.
He withdrew his hand.
"Remember this," he said. "NULL doesn't kill you for being weak."
The tower waited.
"It kills you for acting like you're allowed to choose."
Eiran moved first.
This time, the tower let him pass.