The summons arrived without ceremony. No knock at the door, no handler with a clipboard. Just a black screen on the wall of his quarters, flickering awake in the middle of the night.
The words crawled across it like insects:
ASSIGNMENT: TERMINATION ORDER
TARGET: LYRA VALERIUS
AUTHORIZATION: LEVEL ALPHA
And beneath it, his own name. Already signed.
---
Kael sat on the edge of the cot, elbows on his knees, staring at the screen. The room was bare—metal walls, a single lamp, the faint hum of the respirator feed that kept Elara alive in another wing of the city. He could almost hear her breathing through the walls, a fragile rhythm that had become his only measure of time.
They had chosen well. They always did. The system never wasted cruelty.
---
He touched the watch on his wrist. It ticked faintly, still damaged from Lyra's override. The sound was uneven, like a heart that had learned to limp. He thought of her face in the silo, the way she had pressed her thumb into the seam of the watch and stolen his rhythm. He thought of the word they had chosen together—Clockfall—a word that could end him if she spoke it.
Now the ledger had spoken first.
---
The door hissed open. A handler stepped inside, faceless in the way all handlers were. Clipboard, pale gloves, the smell of antiseptic.
"You've been selected," the handler said. "High-value target. Priority execution."
Kael didn't answer.
"You will comply," the handler continued. "The system has noted inefficiencies. This is your opportunity to demonstrate loyalty."
Kael's throat felt dry. "Why her?"
The handler tilted their head, as if the question were a miscalculation. "Because she exists. Because she resists. Because she is yours."
The words landed like a blade.
---
When the handler left, the screen still glowed. The contract pulsed with a faint red light, as if it were alive. He reached out, touched the surface. The signature line burned. His name appeared again, this time in fire.
He pulled his hand back. The glow lingered on his skin, a phantom brand.
---
He thought of Elara. Her chest rising and falling under the respirator. The machine counting for her. Each second a debt he had paid in blood. Without him, she would already be gone. Without Kronos, she would never have lived this long.
He thought of Lyra. Her laugh, sharp and cruel. Her hand on his cheek, warm and dangerous. The chip she had given him, still hidden in his coat. The way she had said Don't trust me and meant it.
Now the system had forced the equation. Sister or Lyra. Debt or betrayal.
---
He stood. The blade at his side hummed faintly, eager. He hated that it felt eager.
The contract still burned on the wall. He stared at it until the letters blurred.
He whispered, "Clockfall," just to hear how it sounded in the empty room.
The word didn't save him. It didn't damn him either. It just hung there, heavy, waiting.
---
When he finally pressed his thumb to the screen, the contract flared. His signature burned across it in red. The system purred in approval.
ASSIGNMENT CONFIRMED.
The wall went dark.
Kael stood in the silence, the blade humming at his side, the watch ticking unevenly on his wrist.
He had just agreed to kill the only person who still knew his name.
And the ledger would not let him forget it.
---
He didn't sleep. He sat in the dark, the chip Lyra had given him in one hand, the blade in the other. The chip was cold, inert, but it felt alive. It felt like a heart that had been cut out and preserved.
He turned it over and over, imagining the data inside. Elara's name. Her file. The possibility of freedom. Or a trap. Lyra's traps were always elegant.
The blade hummed faintly, as if it wanted to taste blood just to remind him what it was for. He hated it. He needed it.
---
He remembered the audit chamber. The white walls. The synthetic tick. The way the Auditors had stared at him like he was already a corpse. This assignment was their answer. Their test. Kill Lyra, prove loyalty, erase inefficiency.
It was simple. Too simple.
He had killed hundreds. Thousands. Fathers, mothers, children. He had harvested their seconds and fed them into the ledger. He had told himself it was survival. That Elara's life justified the arithmetic.
But Lyra was different. Lyra was not just another entry. She was the ghost in his watch, the voice in his head, the fracture in his armor. Killing her would not be arithmetic. It would be something else. Something irreversible.
---
He thought of Elara again. Her face pale under the respirator mask. The way her fingers twitched in her sleep, as if she were dreaming of a world without machines. He had promised her he would keep her alive. He had promised her he would pay whatever it cost.
This was the cost.
---
At dawn, the screen lit again. The contract pulsed, demanding acknowledgment. He pressed his thumb to it once more. The wall whispered:
TARGET LOCATION: NEON CHAPEL.
EXECUTION WINDOW: 48 HOURS.
The Neon Chapel. A ruin of machines and broken faith. A place where people went to pray to clocks that no longer worked.
Of course she would be there. Lyra always chose ruins.
---
Kael stood, strapped the blade to his side, and left his quarters. The corridors were empty. The city above was waking, its lights flickering on, its people counting their seconds. He walked through it like a ghost, unseen, unremarked.
Every step felt heavier. Every breath felt borrowed.
He was the Debt Collector now. Not just for Kronos. For himself. For Elara. For Lyra.
---
Closing Beat
By the time he reached the surface, the sun was rising. The light was thin, pale, filtered through smog. It painted the city in colors that looked like bruises.
Kael stood there, watching the horizon. The watch ticked unevenly on his wrist. The blade hummed at his side. The chip pressed cold against his chest.
He had forty-eight hours to kill Lyra Valerius.
Forty-eight hours to decide whether he was still a man, or just another number in the ledger.
And the city kept counting.
---