Kael didn't remember leaving the motel. One moment he was staring into the mirror, fighting the urge to smash it; the next he was walking down a rain-slick street in Yorknew's lower districts, collar turned up against the drizzle, hands shoved deep in his pockets. His boots splashed through shallow puddles, but he didn't feel the cold. He didn't feel much of anything anymore.
The voice was quieter now. Not gone—just patient. It had given him instructions the way a parent might remind a child to pick up milk on the way home. There's a man named Toren Vahl. Mid-forties. Runs a small antique bookshop near the old cathedral district. He has something I need. You're going to get it for me.
Kael's mouth moved on its own. "What is it?"
A ledger. Leather-bound, red ribbon marker. Inside are names, dates, payments. People who've bought forbidden Nen texts in the last three years. One of those names has a birthday I like very much.
Kael wanted to ask why. Wanted to scream that he wasn't going to do this. But the words never made it past his throat. Instead his legs kept moving, turning corners he didn't recognize, until he stood in front of a narrow storefront with fogged glass and a faded sign that read VAHL & SONS – RARE EDITIONS.
The bell above the door chimed when he stepped inside. The shop smelled of old paper and incense. Shelves towered to the ceiling, crammed with volumes in languages Kael couldn't read. Behind the counter stood a thin man with wire-rimmed glasses and graying temples. Toren Vahl looked up from the book he was reading and offered a polite smile.
"Can I help you?." Kael's voice came out steady, friendly. Not his voice. Erynn's cadence layered over his own like a second skin.
"I'm looking for something specific," Kael said. "A ledger. Red ribbon. You know the one. Toren's smile faltered. His hand drifted toward the drawer under the counter—slow, casual, the way someone reaches for a weapon they hope they won't need.
"I don't know what you're talking about, young man."Kael felt the strings shift inside his chest. Not painful anymore. Comfortable. Like stretching after a long sleep. His right hand lifted without conscious thought. Thin threads shimmered into existence between his fingers, invisible to anyone without Gyo.
Toren's eyes widened. "You're—"
Kael lunged. It wasn't a fight. It was choreography. Toren tried to dodge, but the strings were already there—looping around his wrist, his ankle, his throat. Not tight enough to choke. Just enough to remind him who held the reins. The man dropped to his knees, gasping, glasses askew.
Kael crouched in front of him. His own face smiled down at Toren, but the expression didn't belong to him. "Where is it?" the voice asked through Kael's mouth. Toren's lips trembled. "Safe… behind the third shelf. False panel."
"Good boy."Kael stood, walked to the shelf, found the panel, pulled it open. The ledger was exactly where Toren said it would be. Heavy. Warm, almost, as if it had been waiting.
As Kael tucked it under his arm, something flickered at the edge of his vision. Toren was staring at him. Not with fear anymore. With recognition.
"You're not him," Toren whispered. "You're… new."Kael's body froze mid-step.
The voice inside his head hissed. Quiet. But Kael felt it—the tiniest crack in the control. A memory that wasn't Erynn's bubbled up: Toren's face, younger, standing in a classroom somewhere. Teaching. Kael had never met this man before in his life. So why did the memory feel so real?
The strings tightened in warning. Kael's hand shot out on its own, threads wrapping around Toren's neck. The man gurgled, eyes bulging.
Then the voice softened. Almost gentle. No. Not yet. He might be useful alive. The threads loosened. Toren collapsed, coughing, clutching his throat. Kael turned and walked out of the shop without another word. The bell chimed again as the door closed behind him.
Rain pattered against his face. He didn't blink. Somewhere deep inside, a small, stubborn part of Kael was still screaming. But the scream was getting quieter.
And the ledger under his arm felt heavier than it should. Like it carried more than just names. Like it carried the next face Erynn planned to wear.