The first sound Sethis made was a breath dragged too deep into his chest. Not pain. Panic. Mae caught him before he fully collapsed, her hands gripping his shoulders as his weight sagged forward. His body shook beneath her touch, muscles locking as if they no longer knew how to hold themselves together. Where his shadows should have pooled, there was nothing. Bare ground. Empty air.
"Sethis," she said again, sharper now. "Look at me."
His eyes were wide, unfocused, pupils blown as if he were staring into something only he could see. His voice came out hoarse. "They are not answering."
Mae's chest tightened. "They will. You just need a moment."
"No," he said, almost violently. "You do not understand. They are gone."
The words hit harder than the blow Lucien had taken. Mae felt the fracture stir uneasily, a subtle misalignment where Sethis's presence had always been threaded into the battlefield. It was not gone. It was wrong.
Lucien staggered closer, chains still glowing faintly as he braced himself upright. His gaze flicked from Sethis to the figure standing just beyond Mae. His jaw tightened. "What did it do to you?"
Sethis did not look at him. He was staring at his own hands, flexing his fingers as if expecting darkness to pour from his palms. Nothing happened. His breathing grew ragged. "It took them," he said. "Not suppressed. Not severed. Taken."
Ashar swore under his breath, flames flaring sharply before he forced them down. "That should not be possible."
The figure did not move.
Mae slowly turned to face it, her chains hanging limp against her skin, no longer humming with warning. That silence terrified her more than the pain. "You reassigned them," she said. "You did not destroy them."
The figure's head inclined slightly.
'Correct.'
Riven landed hard nearby, wings folding tight as he took in the scene. His gaze locked on Sethis, then snapped to the figure. "Give them back."
The figure did not acknowledge him.
Mae felt something shift then. Not power. Perspective. This was not an enemy reacting to a threat. This was a system correcting an imbalance.
"You said deviation must be corrected," she said. "You are not correcting me. You are correcting him."
The figure stepped closer, pale chains sliding softly against its form. The air bent with the movement. Sethis flinched, instinctively pulling closer to Mae despite himself.
'Division precedes failure,' the figure said. 'This unit was incomplete.'
Mae's stomach turned. "He was not incomplete."
The figure turned its faceless gaze toward her.
'He is now.'
Sethis laughed suddenly, sharp and broken. "You hear that?" he said quietly. "I am now."
Mae tightened her grip on him. "You are still here."
He shook his head. "You feel it too, the silence. I cannot sense the field. I cannot anchor the fracture. I cannot hear anything beneath the world anymore."
Lucien stepped closer, chains coiling tighter around his arms. "Mae, get him back."
She met Lucien's eyes. "I do not think I can."
The admission tasted of blood. The figure lifted its hand slightly. Sethis stiffened, his breath hitching as something tugged at him from within. Mae reacted instantly, chains flaring weakly as she stepped forward.
"Do not touch him again."
The figure paused.
'Objection noted.'
Mae stared. "That is it. Not refusal. Not denial. Objection."
'Authority unconfirmed,' the figure replied. 'Override pending.'
Kaine moved then, stepping into Mae's peripheral vision. The gold light along his arms flickered erratically as he faced the figure. "He is not yours."
The figure turned its head.
'Returned anomaly detected.'
Kaine clenched his fists. "You do not get to categorize him. Or her."
Mae felt the thread between herself and Kaine tighten painfully. The fracture reacted to his proximity now, no longer passive, no longer distant.
'You should not be bound,' the figure said.
Kaine smiled thinly. "Neither should you."
The figure regarded him for a long moment. Then its attention shifted back to Mae.
'Fracture origin. Confirmed.'
Mae's pulse spiked. "You are not taking anyone else."
The figure tilted its head. 'This outcome is inefficient.'
Lucien snarled. "Try it anyway."
The air snapped. Mae felt it first. A ripple through the fracture, sharp and destabilizing, as if something had struck the wrong chord. Her chains flared in sudden, violent response, not at the figure but outward, lashing across the ground as if searching for purchase.
Sethis gasped, clutching his chest. "Mae," he hissed. "Something is moving."
The ground beneath them cracked again, but not in golden light. This time it was dark. Not shadow. Absence. Mae looked down and felt her stomach drop. Sethis's shadows were not gone. They were elsewhere.
The figure's chains pulsed faintly, pale gold light crawling along their length. Around its feet, the ground darkened, swallowing light and heat. A familiar ripple moved through the void at its base.
Mae realized then what reassignment meant. Not ownership. Integration. "You put them inside yourself," she said quietly.
The figure did not deny it.
Sethis went rigid. "Mae."
She did not look away from the figure. "You are not correcting the deviation. You are building yourself."
'Optimization requires resources.'
Mae's hands curled into fists. "He is not a resource." The figure stepped closer again. Sethis cried out, pain flashing across his face as something pulled sharply inside him, as if threads were being drawn tighter.
Lucien moved without thinking, and the chains snapped forward in a violent arc. The impact threw sparks and pale fire, staggering the figure back a single step.
Mae felt the fracture scream. The figure turned sharply toward Lucien.
'Error repeated.'
Before Mae could react, the ground beneath Lucien gave way. Pale light surged upward, wrapping his legs in a tightening coil. Lucien snarled, chains flaring as he fought the pull.
Mae shouted his name, and power surged instinctively through her veins. Her chains snapped outward, wrapping around Lucien and yanking him free just as the light collapsed inward.
She dropped to one knee from the effort, breath tearing from her lungs. The figure watched.
'Resistance acknowledged.'
Ashar stepped forward, flames roaring openly now. "Enough," he growled. "You want balance. You want correction. Then take me."
Mae spun. "Ashar, do not."
The figure turned its attention to him, assessing. Ashar stood tall, fire blazing bright and unrestrained.
'Variable unsuitable.'
Ashar blinked. "What?"
'Insufficient integration potential.'
Mae almost laughed, hysterical and sharp. "You have preferences now." The figure ignored her.
Riven shifted, wings spreading despite the pain. "This is pointless," he said. "It is not here to fight us. It is here to reassign us."
Mae pushed herself upright again, ignoring the ache screaming through her body. "Then it does not get to choose alone."
The fracture pulsed in response. Not violently. Not submissively. Attentive. The figure tilted its head.
'Explain.'
Mae met its gaze, steady despite the fear clawing at her chest. "You say balance requires the removal of will. I disagree."
'Disagreement is irrelevant.'
"Then learn," Mae said.
Silence fell quickly; even the ground seemed to pause.
Kaine inhaled sharply. "Mae."
She did not look at him. "You said this thing learns."
The figure did not move. Mae took one step forward. Her chains did not flare. They did not attack. They rearranged, sliding across her skin into a new configuration that felt unfamiliar and wrong and exactly right.
"You corrected Sethis because he was divided," she said. "What happens when the fracture chooses not to divide?"
The figure's chains pulsed brighter.
'Hypothesis untested.'
Mae swallowed. "Then test it."
Sethis grabbed her wrist weakly. "Mae, do not."
She squeezed his hand once. "I am already in this."
The fracture thrummed, not screaming now, but resonant. The figure stood still for a long moment. Then, slowly, it extended its hand again. Not past her this time. Toward her.
Lucien sucked in a sharp breath. "Mae, do not let it take you too."
She looked back at him, at Ashar, at Riven, at Sethis kneeling in the dirt with something missing that would never come back the same way.
"I'm not letting it take me," she said quietly.
She stepped forward anyway, and the fracture leaned in with her.