The alarms finally decided what they wanted to say.
"Containment breach," they screamed in overlapping tones. "Level three. Level three. All personnel to emergency stations."
The lights in the corridor snapped to red.
For a heartbeat, everyone froze the newly freed, the half‑conscious, even Kael.
Then the world lurched back into motion.
"Move!" Lysa shouted.
The young woman at Kael's side stumbled forward. Her legs had forgotten how to run. Kael kept a grip on her arm, steering her past the open cell door and into the hallway.
More doors were sliding back now, some smoothly, some jerking halfway as systems fought to reboot.
Figures spilled out.
A man with burn scars across half his face, blinking like the light hurt.
A kid barely older than Taro, collar hanging in dead pieces around his neck.
Someone whose aura flickered so sharply Kael's teeth buzzed.
Not all of them moved.
One body remained slumped in a chair even as the restraints unlocked, chest still.
Kael looked away.
He didn't have time to grieve strangers.
"Emergency exits are marked with blue strips," Lysa yelled over the alarms, pointing toward the far end of the corridor. "Follow the lines, keep moving. If you can help someone walk, do it. If you can't, don't stop."
A wave of people surged in that direction.
It wasn't orderly. It didn't have to be.
It just had to be forward.
"Where's security?" Kael demanded as they pushed into the flow. "There should be more guns by now."
"Orion's favorite weakness," Lysa said. "They believed their system would never fail. It takes time to spin up a response when reality disagrees."
Kael glanced back once.
The module doors gaped open like broken teeth.
A few remained shut systems that had failed to unlock when Aiden slammed the grid.
Those faces would haunt him later.
If there was a later.
"Speaking of systems," Aiden said into their ears, voice layered with static, "the pillar really does not like me. I can hold the overload another minute, maybe ninety seconds. After that, it resets or blows, and I'm not sure which one is worse."
"What does 'blows' mean in this context?" Lysa asked.
"Localized energy detonation," Aiden said. "Think giant magical fuse box popping. Shields will spike, maybe fry some circuits, maybe fry some people. I'm voting reset, personally."
"So we have a minute to get as many bodies out of the blast radius as we can," Lysa said. "Understood."
Kael tightened his grip on the woman's arm.
"What's your name?" he asked, because giving someone a name made them harder to lose.
She blinked.
"Rin," she said. Her voice sounded like broken glass.
"Okay, Rin," Kael said. "You're doing great. Don't worry about straight lines, just keep your feet under you."
He could feel her power now, free of the collar's choke something thin and sharp, like threads of light ready to slice.
It was barely more than a whisper.
No one in the Board would have called it dangerous.
They'd caged her anyway.
The corridor forked ahead.
Blue emergency strips ran along both branches, splitting.
People hesitated, jamming the flow.
"Left!" Lysa barked. "Service access, fewer checkpoints. Right leads straight into main response teams."
"How do you know that?" Kael asked.
"Because if I designed this place, that's where I'd put them," she said. "And the Board hires people who think like me."
They veered left.
The crowd thinned slightly as others chose the opposite path.
The air grew hotter.
Kael realized it wasn't heat it was magic.
Freed power bled from every person who could no longer hold it in the neat, careful channels the collars demanded.
Small sparks here, a shimmer of distortion there.
Nothing coordinated.
Nothing aimed.
Yet.
"Tell them to dial it down," Aiden said. "If the sensors pick up this much raw output, they'll drop a containment net on the whole floor."
"Everyone!" Lysa shouted, voice slicing through the chaos. "If you can feel your power, pull it in. Don't throw anything unless someone in armor shoots at you first. Let them underestimate you as long as possible."
Some faces turned toward her.
Old reflexes listen to the person who sounds like they know what they're doing.
Kael saw shoulders tense, then settle.
The air cooled a fraction.
"Better," Aiden said. "I'm—"
His voice cut off.
"Aiden?" Kael snapped. "Talk to me."
For a second, only sirens answered.
Then his voice came back, thinner.
"Sorry," he said. "The pillar tried to kick me out. I persuaded it otherwise."
"How persuasive?" Lysa asked.
"On a scale of one to 'this is fine,' I'm at 'the Board is going to send very angry memos to my memorial,'" Aiden said. "Get ready. When I let go, you'll feel it."
Kael didn't like the sound of that.
"What about you?" he asked.
"I'm inside the heart," Aiden said. "Where else would I be?"
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have."
The corridor opened into a wider junction lined with crates and equipment lockers.
Lysa skidded to a stop.
"Here," she said. "We split."
"Again?" Kael demanded.
"Someone has to get these people out through the service ducts," Lysa said, gesturing to the freed Deviants clustering behind them. "Someone else has to keep security busy in the other direction so they don't just slam all the blast doors and gas everyone."
Her eyes met Kael's.
"You're better at breaking things than shepherding crowds," she said. "Take the ones who can still fight, follow the right branch, and make as much targeted noise as you can without getting killed."
Kael stared at her.
"You're asking me to be the distraction."
"I'm asking you to be the flame," Lysa said. "I'll be the exit strategy."
Rin's fingers tightened on his sleeve.
"I can't—" she began.
Kael shook his head.
"You're with Lysa," he said. "She gets you out."
Rin's eyes searched his face, as if memorizing it for later.
"If you die," she said, "I'm going to be very annoyed."
"Get in line," Kael said.
He gently passed her to one of the steadier‑looking escapees, a broad‑shouldered person whose aura hummed with controlled force.
"Stay with her," Kael told them. "If a door closes in front of you, blow it open. If a door closes behind you, ignore it."
They nodded once.
Lysa watched the exchange, then clapped Kael on the shoulder.
"Don't try to win," she said softly. "Just buy time."
"Story of my life," he said.
He turned to the junction.
"Anyone who can still throw a punch or a spark," he called, "with me. We're going to go say hello to security."
A handful stepped forward.
Not many.
Enough.
A woman with tattoos crawling along her arms, the ink shifting like live shadows.
A man whose eyes glowed faintly, heat shimmering around his fists.
A kid with shaking hands who lifted them anyway.
Kael nodded.
"Let's make them regret lab budgets," he said.
Lysa didn't watch him go.
If she did, she might hesitate.
Instead, she raised her voice to the larger group.
"Follow me," she said. "We're getting off this floor and into the ducts. Stay low, stay quiet, and when in doubt, move."
She led them into the left passage, feet already mapping routes she'd only imagined on stolen schematics.
Behind her, the group surged like a river.
***
In the omega chamber, Aiden's world had narrowed to light and pressure.
The central pillar was no longer a clean blue‑white.
Cracks of raw energy spiderwebbed through it, throwing wild reflections across the glass.
His hands shook where they pressed against the rail, magic locked in a constant push‑and‑pull with the tower's failsafes.
"Come on," he muttered through clenched teeth. "You don't want to go back to normal. Normal is boring. Normal is cruel."
Panels around the room flashed warnings.
CONTAINMENT FAILURE.
GRID INSTABILITY.
SEVER CONNECTION?
He did the opposite.
He dug deeper.
The sliver at the rail burned hot, full of data it had no right to hold.
"Almost there," he told it, which was ridiculous. It was a piece of crystal, not a person.
But right now, it was the only thing listening.
Footsteps pounded on the walkway behind him.
Aiden didn't turn.
"Restricted zone," someone barked. "Step away from the—"
The voice cut off.
Not because Aiden obeyed.
Because something hit the guard and sent them sliding into the wall.
"Rian," Aiden said without looking.
"Hey," Rian answered, a little breathless. "You said if I was ever going to betray my job, I should pick a dramatic moment."
Aiden risked a glance.
Rian stood by the entrance, stun baton in one hand, shield projector in the other. Two guards lay unconscious at his feet, armor scorched.
"How did you—"
"Later," Rian snapped. "Tell me what you need."
Aiden almost laughed.
"You're not going to like it," he said.
"Try me."
"I'm going to let go of the pillar," Aiden said. "When I do, it either crashes or tries to dump the excess power into the collars it thinks it still controls. Which it can't. Either way, this room is going to be very unhealthy."
Rian exhaled slowly.
"Okay," he said. "So we don't stay in the room. You got everything you need?"
Aiden glanced at the sliver.
Its runes pulsed, saturated.
"Yeah," he said. "This much horror should be enough."
Rian moved to his side.
"On three," he said. "You cut the link, we run for that side door, and we pray the blast baffles do their job."
"You believe in blast baffles?" Aiden asked.
"Right now, I believe in anything that means I don't die next to a torture pillar," Rian said.
Fair.
Aiden drew one last breath.
"Kael," he said into the comm. "I'm about to drop it. Brace."
"Already busy, thanks," Kael replied, distant sounds of chaos behind his voice. "Do your worst."
Lysa didn't answer.
She was too deep in the ducts for signal.
Aiden let go.
For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.
Then the world tilted.
The pillar screamed again, but this time the sound became a physical thing pressure slamming into his chest, shoving him backward.
Rian grabbed his shoulder and yanked.
They dove for the side door as the column flared, pure white.
The blast hit a heartbeat later.
The air turned to fists.
Glass exploded inward.
Aiden went weightless, then not, slamming into a wall as every alarm in the complex tried to out‑shout every other.
Darkness rushed in at the edges of his vision.
He held onto one thought:
The sliver was still in his hand.
***
On the right‑hand branch, Kael and his makeshift squad met security at a choke point: a T‑intersection with cover on both sides and a ceiling low enough that stray blasts would ricochet.
"Down!" he shouted as the first volley came.
Stun bolts hammered the walls, leaving black circles.
Kael felt the charge pass over his head, raising every hair on his arms.
He grinned.
"Finally," he muttered. "Someone I'm allowed to hit."
He sprang up, lightning already gathering in his palms.
He kept it tight, remembered the drills narrow arcs, no wild flares.
Two quick bolts, aimed at shield belts.
The energy hit, overloading the small projectors.
Two guards' defenses flickered out.
The woman with the living tattoos moved. Her ink peeled off her skin like shadow, spreading across the floor in a dark wave that climbed the guards' legs and locked around their ankles.
They went down hard.
The heat‑fisted man followed, sending a focused blast that turned a dropped baton into molten metal.
"Keep them back from the intersection," Kael ordered. "We don't have to win, we just have to look like we might."
He felt alive in a way that was dangerous.
Every pulse of lightning through his veins said: this is what you were built for.
He refused to forget what they'd tried to build him into.
A shot slipped past his shoulder, close enough to sting.
Kael ducked.
On the far side, he caught a glimpse of armored figures regrouping, falling into the rigid lines he knew too well.
Orion tactics.
"Formation Gamma!" someone barked.
Kael swore.
Of course Orion would be here in person.
Of course Mara would not ignore a call from Twelve‑North.
He didn't see her yet.
That didn't mean she wasn't close.
"New rule!" he called to his team. "If you see anyone with better posture and a longer coat than the others, do not try to solo them."
"Is that a thing?" the heat‑fisted man yelled.
"You'll know when you see it!"
Another volley.
One of the kids cried out, hit in the leg.
Kael grabbed the nearest crate and hauled it into a better angle for cover, muscles straining.
He had no idea how long he could hold this line.
He just knew every second counted for the people running the other way.
He threw another bolt, lips pulled back in something that wasn't quite a smile.
"Come on, Mara," he whispered. "If you're going to show up, make it worth it."