Inkaris drew a line across the dusty floor with the tip of his shoe.
Nothing exploded.
Nothing glowed.
It was just chalk.
Which somehow made everyone more nervous.
"This," he said calmly, "is the boundary."
Aiden frowned.
"…of what?"
"Obligation."
He marked another line.
Then another.
A shape formed — not a spell circle, not a ritual sigil.
A structure.
Contracts turned into geometry.
Liora squinted.
"It's… simple."
"Yes."
"In a terrifying way," Seris muttered.
Inkaris nodded, as if terrifying through efficiency was simply professional etiquette.
He stepped into the shape.
"My existence is governed by contracts," he said. "Every action, every reaction, every breath is the fulfillment of a binding agreement deliberately constructed long ago. Reality and I have an understanding."
Aiden swallowed.
"I'm… sorry?"
"Do not be," Inkaris replied. "I negotiated exceptionally well."
He placed a gloved hand against one chalk line.
"Wish granters do not negotiate. They… become. That makes you fundamentally dangerous. Not because you are cruel. Not because you are kind."
He looked directly into Aiden's eyes.
"But because you are undefined."
Those words landed heavy.
Seris folded her arms.
"So your solution is… draw lines around him?"
"Yes."
He turned fully back to Aiden.
"You must decide what you will do.
What you will never do.
What you might do under very specific conditions.
And then you must remain those things when terrified, furious, desperate, adored, or despairing."
He paused.
"And the universe will punish you when you fail."
Aiden winced.
"Comforting."
"I am not here to comfort you," Inkaris replied. "I am here to ensure you do not become something no one can correct."
He pointed to the first section of chalk.
"Line One: You will not violate another's will simply because you can."
Aiden nodded quickly.
"Yes. Obviously."
"No."
Inkaris cut him off.
"You believe that now, which is worthless. I require you to bind it to identity rather than mood."
He tapped Aiden's chest.
"What you think you are does not matter.
What you remain under pressure does."
Aiden went very still.
That hurt.
In the way that mattered.
Then Inkaris turned to Liora.
"Line Two: Witness."
She blinked.
"…what?"
"You already placed a hand on something ancient and said 'stop' when the world wouldn't. That makes you valuable. It also makes you catastrophically reckless."
She smirked weakly.
"Story of my life."
"Yes."
He drew a second boundary.
"This rule is not to protect him. It is to protect you from dying for causes that do not deserve you."
Her smile faded.
She nodded.
That one landed deep.
He faced Seris next.
He did not draw a line this time.
He simply looked at her.
"You were once an arm of a system. You are now an individual without one. You will be tempted to replace authority with purpose."
Her jaw tightened.
He continued.
"Purpose is more seductive than law. It convinces you that anything you do is necessary. Noble. Unavoidable."
She breathed slowly.
"And your advice?"
"Do not confuse loyalty with destiny.
Do not confuse care with control.
And above all—"
He softened. Just slightly.
"Do not decide the world requires your suffering to function."
That one hit hard.
She didn't speak.
She simply nodded.
Somewhere far above, power shifted again.
Plans were adjusting.
The city was not done with them.
Inkaris did not react.
He adjusted his cuff.
"Now. The contract."
Aiden stiffened.
"…contract?"
"Yes. If I am to mentor you, we must define what I am allowed to do. And what I am forbidden to do."
Liora glanced sharply at him.
This was dangerous ground.
Aiden took a breath.
"If you bind yourself to protect and teach me… what does that make me?"
Inkaris answered immediately.
"Your obligation. Your responsibility. Your investment. Your liability."
He lifted a single gloved finger.
"And you must understand one final element before we proceed."
They all tensed.
"In every binding I enter, I am absolutely constrained. I cannot break what I sign. I cannot twist it. I cannot escape it."
Aiden nodded slowly.
"That sounds… fair."
"It is not."
He said it without hesitation.
"Because there is an imbalance."
Silence thickened.
"I may release you at any time."
Aiden blinked.
"…you can end the contract?"
"Yes."
"Unilaterally?"
"Yes."
Liora's jaw clenched.
"So if he becomes inconvenient—"
"If he becomes dangerous," Inkaris corrected. "If he becomes compromised. If I determine continued mentorship creates higher systemic risk than abandoning the project. Or," he added calmly, "if you simply prove unworthy of protection."
He spoke like it was math.
Seris swallowed.
"And if you abandon him while he's still learning?"
"Then he will be,"
Inkaris considered wording,
"…very alone in a world that will not forgive him."
He wasn't threatening.
He was describing weather conditions.
Aiden breathed.
Slow.
Steady.
"So… I don't belong to you?"
"No."
"So I'm disposable?"
"No."
Inkaris' gaze sharpened.
"This continues because I choose it to.
And choice is stronger than obligation."
Aiden stared at him.
Then nodded.
It wasn't comforting.
But it was honest.
And somehow,
that was better.
He stepped into the chalk boundary.
"Then let's make the contract."
Inkaris smiled.
Not kindly.
Not cruelly.
Satisfied.
"Excellent."
The undercity seemed to listen,
like reality quietly acknowledged a threshold had been crossed.
From now on,
Aiden wasn't just powerful.
He was accountable.
And that is always where the real danger begins.