The conduit narrowed after the second node stabilized.
Not physically.
Atmospherically.
The air thinned into something sharper — like a blade drawn across stone.
Kaelen felt the change immediately.
The second anchor's alignment had not restored silence.
It had drawn attention.
The golden frame around the girl pulsed once, faintly, as though acknowledging a distant gaze.
Not from below.
Not from the engine.
From ahead.
They walked without speaking.
The corridor's veins of gold dimmed as they moved further from the chamber heart. In their place, silver threads began appearing along the walls — thinner, tighter, coiled like wire under strain.
The Scribe's voice came low. "The first resisted quietly."
"Yes."
"This one won't."
Kaelen did not answer.
He could feel the third anchor before they reached it.
It did not flicker like the second.
It burned.
The corridor widened into a chamber similar in shape to the last — circular, centered by a pedestal — but the atmosphere here was charged with deliberate force.
The anchor node above the pedestal glowed bright silver.
Too bright.
Its surface rotated in tight, accelerated spirals, not in harmony with the engine's rhythm.
It was holding itself rigid.
The golden frame around the girl reacted instantly — extending outward in sharper lines, reinforcing joints and spine.
The node pulsed.
A pulse answered from somewhere far beyond the chamber.
Kaelen widened his perception.
He found it quickly.
The third anchor line stretched toward mountainous territory — ancient stone and older bloodlines.
House Vaelor.
He felt their resonance threaded into the node.
Not subtle.
Not defensive.
Assertive.
They were stabilizing it intentionally against recalibration.
The Scribe's breath caught. "They've bound their bloodline directly to the anchor."
"Yes."
"They never severed their claim."
The silver node flared brighter as though sensing scrutiny.
The chamber's air compressed suddenly.
The golden frame shimmered.
The girl inhaled sharply.
"This one doesn't want to listen," she whispered.
Kaelen stepped forward.
"It is not the anchor that refuses."
He felt it clearly now.
A living will across distance.
A High Elf mind aligned in opposition.
Not wild.
Controlled.
Measured.
The silver node emitted a low vibration.
Not unstable.
Defiant.
The engine's distant rhythm deepened, attempting synchronization.
The node resisted.
The chamber trembled.
A crack formed along the wall behind the pedestal — not from strain, but from resonance pressure meeting equal force.
The Scribe moved back instinctively. "If they force the anchor out of phase—"
"It will rupture the conduit," Kaelen said.
"And destabilize adjacent lines."
The golden frame around the girl extended further this time — beams of gold intersecting at precise angles around her torso and shoulders.
She stepped forward.
The node brightened aggressively in response.
A sharp arc of silver lightning lashed outward.
Kaelen intercepted it with a downward anchor into the chamber floor, redirecting the current into the conduit walls.
Stone groaned.
The node pulsed again.
Harder.
From the distant mountain territory, Kaelen felt the answering push.
A consciousness met his.
Cold.
Disciplined.
Ancient.
You overstep.
The words were not spoken.
They were pressed through resonance.
Kaelen did not project dominance.
He aligned.
The convergence has returned.
The pressure sharpened.
It was not disbelief he felt from Vaelor's bloodline.
It was calculation.
The imbalance has benefited us.
There it was.
Truth without shame.
Kaelen's jaw tightened.
The golden frame brightened.
The girl stepped closer to the node until she stood within arm's reach.
The silver sphere rotated faster.
The opposing force increased.
The chamber vibrated violently now, hairline fractures spidering across the pedestal's base.
The Scribe dropped to one knee under the pressure.
"They will break it before they yield."
Kaelen placed his palm flat against the air before the node.
He did not attempt to overpower the opposing will.
He opened the conduit fully.
Let Vaelor feel her.
The golden frame flared brilliantly.
Not aggressive.
Radiant.
Stable.
The node's rotation faltered for half a second.
The distant presence hesitated.
Confusion.
Recognition.
The missing convergence was not myth.
Not manipulation.
It was standing within the system again.
The pressure surged in anger.
The silver sphere elongated violently, nearly tearing open.
The golden frame around the girl expanded outward in angular precision, catching the distortion before it could rupture into a seam.
Her breath hitched.
Not from fear.
From strain.
Kaelen anchored deeper into the conduit, reinforcing the chamber geometry.
You would fracture the world to maintain advantage?
The question pressed outward through him, carried by alignment rather than accusation.
Silence answered for a long heartbeat.
Then—
The pressure shifted.
Not withdrawn.
Redirected.
The node's frantic rotation slowed incrementally.
The silver surface flickered.
The distant will narrowed in focus.
If this convergence stabilizes fully… our leverage dissolves.
Yes.
Kaelen did not soften it.
Yes.
The chamber shook once more as the opposing force pressed one final time.
The golden frame around her sharpened to near-blinding intensity, beams locking into flawless structure.
She exhaled slowly.
The node emitted a single, piercing tone.
Pure.
The distant pressure cracked.
Not broken by force.
Outpaced.
The silver sphere's rotation aligned with the engine's rhythm.
The chamber's fractures sealed.
The lightning ceased.
Silence fell heavy.
Far along the mountain anchor line, House Vaelor withdrew their will.
Not in surrender.
In recalculation.
The golden frame dimmed slightly but did not recede entirely.
The girl staggered once.
Kaelen caught her.
"That one hurt," she whispered.
"Yes."
The Scribe rose slowly, face pale. "They will not forget this."
"No."
The silver node now hovered in steady synchronization.
Two anchors aligned.
Ten remaining.
The corridor ahead did not glow warmly this time.
Its veins pulsed sharper.
The system was no longer correcting imbalance quietly.
It was confronting opposition.
Kaelen looked down the passage toward the fourth anchor line.
He felt it before seeing it.
This next one would not merely resist through distance.
It would act.
The golden frame brightened faintly again.
"They're gathering," she said.
Kaelen felt it too.
Across multiple lines now — not yet pushing — but preparing.
The civil fracture that once whispered beneath politics had just entered the foundation of magic itself.
He stepped forward into the corridor.
"We continue."
Behind them, the third node pulsed in perfect rhythm.
Ahead—
The system would not face only resistance.
It would face retaliation.