Morning After the Blade
Ashthorne woke differently the morning after the assassination attempt.
Not slower.
Tighter.
Wards realigned at dawn, sigil-lamps recalibrated into overlapping spectrums, and Dominion observation constructs took permanent positions along major corridors. Students moved in clusters. Conversations dropped the moment certain names entered the air.
Caelum's name.
Lira's name.
They were no longer rumors.
They were variables.
Lira noticed the change immediately.
Not the stares—she was used to those now.
It was the distance.
People stepped around her like she was a fault line in the stone.
Marenne walked close, notebook tucked tight under her arm, eyes sharp and watchful.
"This is what happens after a failed hit," she muttered. "Security theater. Control reassertion. They're going to try to lock you down."
Lira swallowed.
"Lock me down?"
"Yes," Marenne said. "Not him. You."
That made a terrible kind of sense.
The Summons That Isn't a Request
The Dominion summons arrived before noon.
Not bells.
A sigil imprint appeared directly on Lira's forearm—cold, precise, undeniable.
ANCHOR ASSET — REPORT FOR STABILIZATION REVIEW.
Her stomach dropped.
Caelum felt it instantly.
The bond flared—sharp, warning, restrained fury.
He was at her side in seconds.
"No," he said calmly, eyes already cold.
A Dominion Arbiter stepped out of the sigil-gate at the end of the hall, flanked by two containment specialists.
"Caelum Veylor," the Arbiter said. "You are not the subject of this review."
Caelum stepped half a pace in front of Lira.
"That is inefficient phrasing," he replied. "She is inseparable from my classification."
The Arbiter's eyes flicked to Lira.
"Exactly."
Marenne cursed softly.
Lira's hands shook.
But she stepped forward anyway.
"I'll go," she said quietly.
Caelum turned sharply.
"No."
She looked up at him.
"They'll take me anyway," she whispered. "At least if I go willingly, I can hear what they plan."
His jaw tightened.
The bond strained.
He saw it—the logic, the risk, the inevitability.
He hated it.
"Thirty minutes," he said to the Arbiter. "With me present."
The Arbiter hesitated.
Then nodded.
"Accepted."
Stabilization Chamber — The Truth in Clean Words
The chamber was white.
Too white.
Sigil-sterile.
Containment rings hovered in the air like halos with teeth.
Lira sat in the center on a smooth stone chair that hummed faintly with suppressive resonance.
Caelum stood three steps away.
Close enough.
Too close for Dominion comfort.
Voss appeared without preamble.
"You survived an assassination attempt," she said flatly.
"Yes," Lira replied.
"You synchronized reflexively with a Category Black anomaly and redirected lethal causality."
Lira hesitated.
"I… held on."
"That is not a civilian response," Voss said.
She circled slowly.
"Your anchor state has escalated beyond passive stabilization. You are now an active resonance vector."
Lira's throat tightened.
"What does that mean?"
"It means," Voss said, "that your emotional state can influence anomaly behavior."
Marenne inhaled sharply.
Caelum's voice was ice.
"You're saying they'll try to manipulate her."
Voss met his gaze.
"Yes."
Silence slammed down.
"You will not," Caelum said.
"That is not your decision."
"It is," he replied. "Because the moment you force compliance, the bond destabilizes."
Voss's eyes narrowed.
"You threaten collapse every time you don't like an answer."
"No," Caelum said calmly. "I explain consequences."
Voss exhaled slowly.
"Then here is the compromise," she said.
She turned to Lira.
"You will be trained," Voss said. "Privately. Under Dominion oversight. Your schedule will change. Your movements will be restricted."
Lira's chest tightened.
"I don't want to be a weapon."
"You already are," Voss said gently. "The difference is whether you know how to aim."
Caelum — The Shape of a Cage
Caelum listened.
Calculated.
Every restriction they proposed tightened a conceptual boundary around Lira.
Protection.
Safety.
Control.
A cage disguised as concern.
"Who trains her?" he asked.
Voss paused.
"Edevra stabilizers. A Pyrell resonance reader. And one Umbraxis defector."
Caelum smiled thinly.
"So you plan to expose her to every House that wants her dead."
"We plan to teach her how they think," Voss replied.
"You plan to normalize her as an asset."
"Yes."
Caelum's threads stirred beneath his skin.
"And if I refuse?"
Voss met his gaze steadily.
"Then we escalate containment."
The word hung heavy.
Lira's hands clenched.
"No," she said suddenly.
Every eye turned to her.
"I said no."
Voss blinked.
"You misunderstand—"
"No," Lira repeated, voice trembling but firm. "I understand perfectly. You want to put me in a box and call it safety. You want to make sure I don't become inconvenient."
Her breath shook.
"I won't let you decide what I'm allowed to feel just because it's dangerous."
Silence.
Caelum looked at her.
Really looked.
Voss studied her with new interest.
"You're refusing Dominion protection."
"Yes."
"That makes you vulnerable."
Lira lifted her chin.
"I already am."
Voss's lips curved faintly.
"…Interesting."
She turned to Caelum.
"Your anchor is not passive," she said. "That makes her unpredictable."
"Yes," Caelum agreed. "Which is why she must remain free."
Voss considered.
Then nodded once.
"Very well," she said. "No forced emotional suppression. No isolation."
Lira exhaled shakily.
"But," Voss continued, "you will train."
Lira hesitated.
Then nodded.
"…On my terms."
Voss smiled.
"On mutually survivable ones."
After — The Quiet Shift
They left the chamber under heavy watch.
Word spread fast.
Lira Ainsworth refused Dominion containment.
Didn't cry.
Didn't beg.
Didn't break.
Students whispered with something new in their voices.
Not pity.
Not fear.
Respect.
Marenne squeezed her arm hard.
"You just told the most powerful institution in the Empire to negotiate with you."
Lira laughed weakly.
"I think I'm going to throw up."
Caelum walked beside her in silence.
When they reached the stairwell, he stopped.
"You did not have to do that," he said quietly.
"Yes," she replied. "I did."
He studied her.
The bond hummed—different now.
Not just support.
Alignment.
"You are changing," he said.
"So are you," she replied.
A beat.
"…Does that bother you?"
He considered honestly.
"No," he said. "It complicates projections."
She smiled faintly.
"I'll take that as a compliment."
Far Away — A House Decides
In the sealed war room of House Umbraxis, the pale woman listened to the report in silence.
"So," she murmured. "The Anchor refuses the leash."
The shadow knelt.
"Yes."
She tapped her fingers together.
"Then we change strategy."
"How?"
Her smile was razor-thin.
"We stop trying to cut her," she said.
"And start trying to convince her."
The Entity Watches the Cage Form
Deep beneath Ashthorne, the entity pulsed with quiet delight.
Protection tightens, it whispered.
Freedom sharpens.
Anchors who choose are dangerous.
Its attention coiled tighter around the bond.
Good, it thought.
Let them teach her fear.
I will teach her something else.