Ashthorne Does Not Sleep Tonight
Even after the breach is sealed, the academy does not calm.
Lights burn through every tower.
Instructors run between buildings.
Seers stare at trembling scry-plates.
Administrators whisper into black mirrors that do not reflect their faces.
And the Dominion Tower… glows.
Everyone knows what that means.
Someone is being interrogated tonight.
Someone important.
Someone dangerous.
No one says the name.
But everyone thinks it:
Caelum Veylor.
Lira Wakes Before She Should
The infirmary hums with stabilization wards.
Lira wakes slowly to the feeling of pressure—light, rhythmic—someone testing her pulse with clinical precision.
She opens her eyes.
A Dominion healer stands over her. His mask is silver. His robes are marked with binding runes.
He jumps slightly when she blinks.
"…You're awake." He clears his throat. "Good. I need you to answer a few questions."
Her throat is dry.
"Where's Caelum?"
"That's not relevant right now."
Her pulse spikes.
The healer looks annoyed, then repeats:
"Your physical state is stable. Your sigil is stable. But your conceptual alignment—"
"Where is Caelum?"
"…under examination."
She sits up too quickly. The world tilts. The healer steadies her.
"You cannot walk yet."
"I'm not asking for permission."
"Miss Ainsworth—"
Lira pushes his hand away.
The bond hums in her chest.
Not loudly.
Not painfully.
Just enough to remind her:
He's awake.
He's calm.
But something is wrong.
She swings her legs over the bed.
"Either tell me where they took him," she says, "or I'll find him myself."
The healer hesitates.
"…He's in the Tower—"
She moves before he finishes.
Caelum Reads the Room Before Anyone Speaks
Caelum stands alone inside a containment circle of spiraling sigils.
No chains.
No restraints.
No visible threat.
Which means the threat is conceptual.
On the raised platform ahead of him, the Dominion Council gathers.
This time, all seven seats are filled.
Voss.
Halven.
Yuren.
Rhaiden.
The Archivist.
The Warden.
And at the center, seat of honor and judgment:
A figure Caelum has never seen before.
Draped in pale gold.
Face shadowed beneath a hood inscribed with runes of authority.
Presence heavy enough to fold the air around them.
Caelum recognizes it instantly.
A royal.
The room feels it too.
He bows—not deeply, but correctly.
"Caelum Veylor," the hooded figure says.
Their voice is quiet, but it resonates through bone and memory.
"You have interfered with a sealed anomaly."
Caelum lifts his head.
"I prevented a collapse."
"You overrode protocol."
"I resolved a failure."
"You risked destabilizing the academy."
"I prevented destabilization."
The hooded figure is silent for a long moment.
Rhaiden grips his chair arm so tightly the wood cracks.
Halven taps furiously through a floating slate of readings.
The Warden examines Caelum with eyes like carved stone.
Finally, the hooded figure speaks:
"You acted without consultation."
"I acted before consultation became irrelevant."
The room stills.
Even Voss blinks.
The royal leans forward.
"You presume your understanding exceeds ours."
Caelum meets the shadowed gaze without flinching.
"It does."
A dangerous silence settles.
Lira Arrives at the Tower Doors
Two Dominion guards block the entrance.
"You cannot enter."
"I'm not here as a student," Lira says. "I'm here as his anchor."
"The Council did not summon you."
"That doesn't change who I am."
"You are still not allowed to—"
The door behind them unlocks with a click.
Both guards freeze.
The doors creak open.
A corridor of sigils glows faintly.
Someone—something—just overrode the access wards.
Lira steps forward.
Neither guard dares stop her.
Interrogation Turns Into Negotiation
Inside the chamber, Caelum feels the shift before the doors even finish opening.
A thread tugs.
Lira enters.
The Council spirals into instantaneous tension.
"Who allowed her entry?" Halven snaps.
"No one," Voss mutters. "Which is what worries me."
The Warden rises.
"This chamber is not prepared for an untrained anchor."
"I'm not untrained," Lira says.
The Warden ignores her.
"You standing here is destabilizing the containment field."
"No," Caelum says calmly. "I am stabilizing it."
The royal inclines their head slightly.
"You are bold for someone in your position."
"I am practical," Caelum says.
"And the situation requires practicality."
The royal's tone sharpens.
"Explain why your involvement was necessary."
Caelum replies without hesitation:
"Because the function did not recognize your authority."
Even the sigils flicker at that.
Caelum continues:
"It recognized mine."
"Why?" the royal asks.
"Because I speak the language it understands."
"And what language is that?"
"Thread logic."
The room goes still.
Voss exhales sharply.
Halven whispers, "Impossible…"
The Archivist leans forward, eyes gleaming.
The royal studies Caelum for several long seconds.
Then:
"Show me."
Caelum lifts a hand.
A single thread emerges—thin, faint, controlled.
It bends gently toward Lira before dissolving.
The royal's hood tilts slightly.
Their voice softens.
"…I see."
Rhaiden bursts to his feet.
"This is madness! This boy is manipulating pre-Stitching logic structures—he should be contained, not tested!"
"He is already contained," the Archivist murmurs.
"Not enough!"
Caelum's voice is quiet enough to cut the argument cleanly.
"I did not come here to fight the academy."
The royal asks:
"Then why did you come?"
Caelum answers simply:
"To warn you."
The Warning
He steps forward.
The sigils ripple but do not resist.
"When the archive reactivated," Caelum says, "that was not an error."
Voss's eyes narrow.
"You're saying it was intentional."
"Yes."
"By whom?" Halven demands.
"Not whom," Caelum replies.
"What."
The royal speaks softly.
"…The entity."
Caelum nods once.
"It tested your systems today. It learned how you respond. It learned your limits. And it learned something else."
"What?" Voss asks.
Caelum turns his gaze to the Council.
"To reach me," he says, "it doesn't need to break the academy."
His eyes slide toward Lira.
"It only needs to bend her."
Lira stiffens.
A cold hush sweeps the room.
The royal's voice lowers.
"Are you telling us the entity will target the anchor?"
"No," Caelum says.
"I'm telling you it already has."
The Room Reacts
Halven: "We need to isolate her—"
Caelum: "No."
Rhaiden: "She should be placed in a sealed ward—"
Caelum: "No."
The Warden: "The academy cannot risk a conceptual breach—"
Caelum: "Then learn to mitigate without containment."
Yuren slams a hand down.
"You are not the one giving orders!"
Caelum tilts his head.
"I'm the one keeping your seals intact."
Silence.
The royal breaks it.
"What do you propose?"
Caelum answers instantly:
"Access."
Voss blinks.
Halven stares.
Even the royal stills.
"Access to what?" the royal asks carefully.
"Records," Caelum says.
"Ruin archives. Sigil evolution failures. Thread constructs. Pre-Stitching diagrams."
Rhaiden explodes:
"You want to hand him the keys to the foundation?!"
"No," Caelum says.
"I want to prevent the foundation from collapsing on you."
The royal raises a hand.
The chamber quiets instantly.
They study Caelum like an equation.
"And if we do not grant this access?"
Caelum's answer is calm.
"Then the anomalies will escalate faster than you can respond."
"And if we do grant it?"
Caelum's eyes meet theirs.
"Then I will solve them."
The Bond Speaks Without Words
Lira watches Caelum in silence.
She feels him thinking.
Not cold.
Not cruel.
Just—calculating the shortest route to survival.
Not only his.
Hers.
Everyone's.
And underneath it—
A thread of something else.
Something she doesn't dare name.
Not yet.
The Royal Decides
The hooded figure rises.
The air thickens.
"You will be granted provisional access to restricted materials," they say.
The room erupts.
Voices overlap—
"He's unstable—"
"He's a proto-sigil carrier—"
"We can't—"
"This is a security disaster—"
The royal raises a hand.
Silence.
"You will also be monitored," they continue.
"You will report your findings.
You will not act alone.
Your anchor will accompany you."
Lira's breath stops.
"Me?"
The royal nods.
"You stabilize him. He stabilizes the anomalies. You function as a pair."
Caelum says nothing.
Lira swallows.
"…Okay."
The royal turns to Caelum.
"Do you accept these terms?"
Caelum answers without hesitation.
"Yes."
The Real Question
The royal steps closer.
Their presence presses like gravity.
"One more thing," they say quietly.
"A question only you can answer."
Caelum waits.
The royal lifts a hand—touching nothing—yet the air itself bends.
"Why," they ask,
"is the entity interested in you?"
A simple question.
The most dangerous one yet.
Caelum's expression does not change.
His voice remains calm.
"I broke the rules," he says.
"And the world noticed."
A pause.
Then—
"And it wants to know what I'll break next."
The chamber trembles.
The sigils dim.
And far below Ashthorne,
the entity laughs—
softly,
deeply,
thrilled.
"…little threadbearer…
unravels so well…"