They tried to measure it.
Of course they did.
The Academy built frameworks for everything—power output, stability thresholds, response time, adaptability. If something existed, they quantified it.
But Cassi's loss—
Didn't fit.
"Cognitive variance is inconsistent," Kael said, pacing slowly across the observation chamber.
"Memory degradation is non-linear. Skill retention is partially intact, but precision is decreasing."
Cassi sat in the center chair, arms resting loosely at her sides.
"…You're saying you can't map it."
Kael didn't stop pacing.
"I'm saying it doesn't follow predictable rules."
Cassi huffed lightly.
"Seems to be a theme."
Lira stood near the console, watching the data scroll.
"It's not random," she said.
Cassi looked at her.
"Then what is it?"
Lira hesitated.
Then—
"It's selective."
That word cut deeper than expected.
"…Selective how?" Cassi asked.
Lira turned the display.
Fragments of recorded sessions appeared.
Cassi's constructs.
Her adjustments.
Her stabilizations inside the fault.
"You're not losing everything evenly," Lira said.
Cassi leaned forward slightly.
"…Then what am I losing?"
Lira met her gaze.
"Specificity."
Silence.
That made sense.
Too much sense.
"You can still perform functions," Lira continued.
"But the detail behind them is degrading."
Cassi frowned.
"…Like I can do something, but I don't fully understand how anymore."
"Yes."
That was worse than losing it completely.
Because it meant she was becoming—
Imprecise.
Kael stopped pacing.
"At current rate," he said,
"You will retain operational ability longer than conceptual clarity."
Cassi blinked.
"…That's a bad sentence."
"It is an accurate one," he replied.
Of course it was.
Later, in the training field, the difference became undeniable.
"Reconstruct," Vael instructed.
Cassi stood in place.
Her threads moved.
The structure formed.
Correct.
Functional.
But—
"…It's wrong," she said quietly.
Vael didn't respond immediately.
"Define wrong."
Cassi stared at the construct.
"It works," she said.
A pause.
"But it's not how I used to do it."
Vael stepped closer.
"That is adaptation."
Cassi shook her head slightly.
"No," she said.
"It's loss."
The distinction mattered.
Because adaptation added.
This—
Was removing.
Riven approached after the session ended.
"You're still better than most people here," he said.
Cassi didn't look at him.
"That's not the point."
He shrugged.
"Seems like a decent point."
Cassi exhaled slowly.
"I'm getting worse," she said.
Riven frowned.
"You're getting different."
"That's not better."
"No," he admitted.
A pause.
"But it's not the same as worse either."
Cassi didn't respond.
Because she wasn't sure anymore.
That night, she didn't go to her room.
She went back to Sector Null.
Unannounced.
Unescorted.
The guards hesitated—
But didn't stop her.
Because at this point—
No one was entirely sure they could.
The chamber was quiet.
The fault remained.
Stable.
Contained.
Defined—
By what she had left inside it.
Cassi stepped closer.
"…Still there," she murmured.
Of course it was.
The constructs inside it held.
Simple.
Minimal.
But present.
She raised her hand slowly.
Her threads responded.
Slower than before.
Less precise.
She felt it immediately.
"…Yeah," she whispered.
The cost hadn't stopped.
Even without active stabilization—
Something had already been taken.
She hesitated.
Then—
She extended her threads again.
Toward the fault.
Not to fill it.
To test something else.
Her threads reached the edge—
And stopped.
Not because she couldn't push further.
Because she chose not to.
Cassi frowned slightly.
"…What happens if I don't give it anything?"
The fault didn't respond.
Of course it didn't.
It wasn't alive.
It didn't demand.
Didn't react.
It just—
Existed.
Cassi lowered her hand slowly.
"…So it's not taking anything," she said.
A pause.
"I'm giving it."
That realization settled heavily.
Because that meant—
This wasn't being drained.
This was a choice.
Repeated.
Cassi sat down at the edge of the chamber.
Looking at the fault.
At what she had created.
At what she had lost.
"…There has to be another way," she murmured.
Not denial.
Determination.
Because if the only way to fix this—
Was to erase herself piece by piece—
Then it wasn't a solution.
It was a trade.
And trades—
Could be renegotiated.
Footsteps echoed behind her.
Lira.
Of course.
"You shouldn't be here alone," she said.
Cassi didn't turn.
"I needed to think."
Lira stepped beside her.
A pause.
"Have you found anything?" she asked.
Cassi nodded slightly.
"…Yeah."
She looked at the fault again.
"I don't have to keep feeding it."
Lira frowned.
"Explain."
Cassi exhaled slowly.
"It's stable enough," she said.
A pause.
"For now."
Lira's gaze sharpened.
"And when it isn't?"
Cassi didn't answer immediately.
Because that was the real question.
Finally—
"…Then I fix it," she said.
Lira studied her.
"That's what you're already doing."
Cassi shook her head slightly.
"No," she said.
"I've been reacting."
A pause.
"Next time," she added quietly,
"I do it differently."
Silence.
Because that implied something.
A new approach.
Something they hadn't considered yet.
Lira didn't push.
Not this time.
Because whatever Cassi was thinking—
It wasn't finished yet.
And for the first time since the fault appeared—
Cassi wasn't just dealing with consequences.
She was planning something else.
Something that might change—
Not just the outcome—
But the rules themselves.