The Academy corridors were quieter than usual. Too quiet. The red haze from the previous lockdown had dissipated, leaving the sky pale and cold, but the tension remained, coiling in every shadow and corner. Sandra's pulse was steady, yet beneath it, Stage Four hummed faintly—a low vibration that whispered of unseen threats.
Tristan and Sebastian flanked her, the triad bond taut like a drawn wire. Lyra moved slightly ahead, scanning walls and ceilings for hidden conduits and sensors. Each step carried weight; every shadow might conceal more than a student or a stray operative.
"They're here," Lyra murmured, voice low. "Inside the Academy. One of their agents has already infiltrated the student ranks. Feeding information."
Sandra's stomach tightened. "Inside? How?"
Lyra's gaze was sharp. "Someone trusted, someone unnoticed. They'll be subtle—subtle enough that you'll think they're normal. But Stage Four… will sense the anomalies if you let it."
Tristan's hand brushed hers briefly—a grounding touch. "We need eyes everywhere. If anyone crosses the line, we act."
Sebastian's amber-gold eyes scanned the hall. "They're playing with fire, hiding in plain sight. But so are we. We just don't pretend."
Sandra focused, letting Stage Four thread out, tracing emotional signatures, subtle shifts in heartbeat, micro-changes in scent and aura. Within moments, a faint distortion pulsed from the student lounge—a familiar presence, yet twisted, unfamiliar.
Lyra's voice broke the silence. "That's the first ember. Someone you thought was an ally."
They approached cautiously. The lounge doors were ajar, shadows pooling inside. A group of students clustered near the windows, whispering, but one stood apart: a tall, lithe figure, eyes too keen, movements too deliberate. Sandra felt Stage Four spike—an alert flashing through her entire body.
"Recognize her?" Tristan asked, voice low.
Sandra shook her head. The System pulsed: Hidden resonance detected. Anomalous energy footprint. Stage Four registered interference.
Sebastian moved first, stepping into the room with controlled fluidity. "Stay calm. Don't underestimate her."
The figure's head tilted slowly. "Sandra Avelis," she said, voice smooth, deceptively warm. "So impressive… Stage Four already fully active. You're… exactly what we were told."
Sandra's pulse leapt. "Who are you?"
"I'm… a friend," the woman replied, but the resonance under Sandra's skin screamed betrayal. This was a false alignment, a mimic of triad energy—carefully crafted to confuse, mislead, and destabilize.
Lyra hissed softly. "Stage Four recognizes her as a tampered resonance. She's masking perfectly, but the threads are wrong. Do not engage her physically—yet. Observe."
The woman smiled, a flash of teeth, warm and venomous. "You don't know who to trust anymore, do you?"
Tristan's silver eyes narrowed. "Step away from her. Now."
The infiltrator's aura shimmered. Stage Four detected deliberate interference—energy threads meant to disrupt Sandra's predictive abilities. The biological shift pulsed again, abdomen tingling faintly as the second phase of awakening subtly adjusted her energy.
Sebastian's voice cut through. "She's destabilizing you. Sandra, focus. Anchor."
Sandra drew in a slow, steadying breath, letting Tristan's discipline and Sebastian's instinct weave into her consciousness. Stage Four's lattice expanded outward, tangling with the infiltrator's false threads, neutralizing the destabilizing pulse.
"You're stronger than I expected," the woman said, voice sharp now, barbed with frustration. "Stronger than the Council predicted. But strength alone won't save you from what's coming."
Lyra stepped forward, eyes alight with controlled power. "We've handled worse. Don't let her words fracture your focus."
The infiltrator's stance shifted—subtle, almost imperceptible—but Stage Four detected the micro-adjustments, predicting trajectory, force, and intent.
Sandra moved first. She extended golden threads, sweeping energy to intercept and redirect the infiltrator's attempts at disruption. The woman staggered, caught by her own amplified interference.
Tristan moved like a silver storm, precise, striking with blades that intersected every motion. Sebastian followed with fluid, unpredictable strikes, forcing the infiltrator to expend energy while remaining vulnerable.
A sudden pulse rattled the chamber. The infiltrator activated a hidden device—a miniature pulse emitter designed to disrupt Stage Four's predictive threads. The golden lattice trembled.
Sandra exhaled sharply. "No. Not yet."
Tristan and Sebastian instantly anchored her—hands on her shoulders, eyes locking, triad energy weaving, countering the interference. Golden threads adjusted in real time, energy reconfiguring around them, absorbing the attack.
Lyra muttered under her breath, analyzing the device. "They're escalating. The Council wants you destabilized—fast. Expect more."
The infiltrator smirked, withdrawing a hidden blade, energy humming along its edge. "You can't hold it forever."
Sandra's hands surged with instinctive power, golden currents responding to Stage Four's predictive guidance. She struck—not violently, but decisively—disarming the operative, threads binding the blade safely, energy pulses neutralizing her movements without lethal force.
Tristan's breath was controlled, silver eyes scanning every angle. "She's contained. Stage Four, maintain lattice."
Sebastian's grin was sharp, predatory. "And that's one ember snuffed."
The infiltrator's eyes flickered—shock, then a flash of recognition, of rage. "This isn't over, Sandra. The Council has only begun."
Sandra's pulse calmed slightly, golden threads settling. Stage Four hummed softly—a living lattice of protective, predictive, and offensive resonance.
Lyra's gaze was stern. "You've proven control. But they will escalate. And this ember… is only the beginning. They have allies in every wing. Every dorm. Every faction. You can't trust anyone blindly—not even students who appear loyal."
Tristan's hand brushed hers again. "Then we remain the constant. Stage Four is ours to wield. We anchor you. No one else matters until this is over."
Sebastian's amber-gold gaze met hers, intense, unyielding. "And if they come again, we'll be ready. Together."
Sandra exhaled slowly, feeling Stage Four pulse, alive beneath her skin. The first betrayal had been exposed, controlled, and survived—but the warning was clear: the embers were spreading. The Council's hidden agents were everywhere, and the next strike would be closer, deadlier, and more personal.
The triad remained tight, golden threads coiling lightly around each heartbeat, each step, each breath. Instinct, discipline, and resonance formed a living shield.
Lyra's voice broke the quiet. "Prepare yourselves. The next ember will test everything—your bond, your control, your loyalty. The Council will try to break you from the inside. They will turn allies against you."
Sandra's chest tightened, but she lifted her chin. Stage Four vibrated with anticipation, golden threads shimmering.
"We'll be ready," she said. "No matter what they send."
Tristan and Sebastian exchanged a glance, protective instincts sharp, tension heavy—but unyielding.
The Academy, once a place of learning, had become a crucible of betrayal, politics, and survival. And Sandra's journey, Stage Four fully awakened, was only beginning.
The shadows shifted, whispers traveled, and unseen eyes followed their every movement. The embers of betrayal had been lit—and the fire was spreading.