⚔️ **CHAPTER 60 — When Control Starts to Slip**
Kael woke choking on air.
Not from a nightmare.
From **emptiness**.
His body felt hollow, as if something essential had been burned away during the escape. Every breath scraped. His limbs refused to respond with the precision they had hours ago.
Iron Mind stirred—
—and stalled.
That frightened him more than pain ever had.
He sat up too fast and nearly blacked out.
Caelin caught him immediately. "Easy. You pushed past your margin."
"I know," Kael said, voice strained. "I misjudged it."
Veyrath was already watching him with sharp intensity. "No. You *spent* it."
Kael clenched his fists. His hands shook.
The forest around them felt wrong again—not watched, not pressured.
**Closing.**
Tomas whispered, "They're boxing us in. Quietly."
Mireya scanned the treeline. "No footsteps. No scouts."
"That's worse," Caelin muttered.
Kael forced himself to stand. His legs buckled slightly before locking. He hated how visible it was now—how his weakness had stopped being theoretical.
"They're adapting faster than I expected," Kael admitted. "I thought we bought time."
Veyrath's voice was cold. "You did. And you spent it."
The words landed hard.
Kael swallowed. His mind raced—routes, options, contingencies—but his body lagged behind every thought, like a weapon drawn from a damaged sheath.
*I can't keep leading like this.*
The realization hit him all at once.
Not fear.
**Desperation.**
"If they attack now," Mireya said quietly, "you won't hold."
Kael nodded. "I know."
Silence pressed in.
Then Caelin spoke, carefully. "Then stop trying to carry it alone."
Kael laughed once—short, bitter. "That was the plan from the beginning."
"No," Caelin replied. "That was the habit."
The forest shifted again.
This time, Kael felt it too late.
A sudden distortion—space folding just enough to disorient. Tomas slammed into a tree. Mireya staggered. Caelin drew his sword—
—and Kael felt Iron Mind *tear* awake, forced, uncontrolled.
Pain exploded behind his eyes.
He screamed—not loudly, but sharply—as something inside him fractured alignment for the first time in days.
The interference vanished instantly.
Gone.
Like it had only been there to force that reaction.
Kael dropped to one knee, gasping.
Veyrath was beside him in an instant. "You let desperation force activation."
Kael pressed a hand to his temple. "I didn't mean to."
"I know," Veyrath said. "That's why it worked."
Caelin knelt in front of him. "Kael. Look at me."
Kael did.
His vision swam, but he focused.
"You don't need to be precise right now," Caelin said. "You need to be honest."
Kael's voice cracked—not with fear, but with exhaustion.
"I don't know if I can keep doing this," he said. "I can't feel where the line is anymore. If I push, I break. If I stop, they catch us."
That was the truth he had been avoiding.
Veyrath stood slowly. "Good."
Kael looked up sharply. "Good?"
"Yes," Veyrath said. "Because desperation strips false confidence. And the Council is waiting for you to pretend you're still in control."
Mireya stepped closer. "Then what do we do?"
Veyrath's gaze locked onto Kael. "We let you be weak."
Kael stared. "That's suicide."
"No," Veyrath corrected. "That's camouflage."
The forest went still again—not watching.
**Listening.**
And Kael realized, with a sinking certainty, that his desperation wasn't just a flaw—
It was about to become the most dangerous signal he had ever sent.
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