The Unbound did not hide.
That was their strength.
They built halls with open doors, held debates in public squares, and wore no symbols—because belief, they claimed, did not need decoration.
Erynd stood among the crowd, hood down, black hair damp with morning mist.
He listened.
A woman spoke from the steps, calm and radiant.
"Once," she said, "fear kept us obedient. Gods. Kings. Laws backed by divine threat. Now? We are free."
Applause.
She continued, smiling gently.
"Freedom means accepting outcomes. If someone is strong enough to take—then the world has chosen them."
More applause.
Erynd felt the scars on his ribs heat.
This was not madness.
This was logic without empathy.
The most dangerous kind.
That night, a child died.
Stabbed for refusing to hand over bread.
The killer was Unbound.
When guards came, the crowd hesitated.
"No law was broken," someone said.
"Who decides that?" another replied.
Erynd arrived too late.
Again.
Caelis found him kneeling in the rain, blood on his hands that wasn't his.
"You can't carry every outcome," Caelis said.
"I know," Erynd answered.
"That's the lie," Caelis said quietly. "You think you're choosing not to. But you are."
The Devourer whispered.
They want chains again.
Erynd clenched his fists.
"No."
Then give them weight.
He went to the Unbound hall at dawn.
Alone.
The woman from the steps greeted him.
"You're the myth," she said. "The one who broke the sky."
"I didn't," Erynd replied. "I refused to hold it up."
She laughed softly.
"Then we agree."
He shook his head.
"You confuse freedom with indifference."
Her smile faded.
"Who are you to decide?"
Erynd looked around.
At the people who watched.
At the guards who waited for permission.
At the children hiding behind pillars.
"I'm no one," he said.
Then he did something he had never done before.
He judged.
The scars ignited.
Not outward.
Inward.
Every Unbound present felt it—
Not pain.
Weight.
Their actions pressed back against them, memories sharpening, consequences returning like a tide.
Some fell to their knees.
Some screamed.
The woman staggered.
"What did you do?!"
Erynd's voice shook.
"I reminded you."
Outside, the Watcher froze.
Its calculations failed.
This was not control.
This was not freedom.
This was responsibility imposed without command.
An impossibility.
Erynd collapsed.
The Devourer laughed softly.
Careful, it said. You're inventing something new.
Erynd whispered, eyes closing, "So did they."