As Kaelen walked through the streets of Argentinis, the crowds moved unaware, their footsteps echoing too loudly in his head. Kael kept his head down.
Don't look.
Don't focus too wide.
Don't listen too deeply.
The pendant lay hidden beneath his clothes, heavy against his chest. It was quiet. Not whispering. Not warning.
It was waiting. Perhaps for something—or someone.
Kael slipped into a narrow side street, breath shallow. His mind itched with the urge to reach outward, to check the threads, to see. He resisted.
Selene's voice echoed in memory.
Observation without restraint attracts attention.
He turned a corner—and nearly collided with a street vendor pushing a cart of humming machinery. Kael stumbled back, muttering an apology, and forced himself to keep walking.
The city smelled of oil, wet-soaked concrete, building materials, and something faintly metallic. The further he moved from his apartment district, the heavier his chest felt.
It wasn't fear that caused the reaction—it was the atmosphere, the pressure. It was unknown. It felt like danger coming.
Then something happened.
A subtle tightening around his awareness, like invisible fingers testing the edges of his mind.
Kael ducked into an underground transit passage, descending the cracked steps two at a time. The lights down here flickered erratically, casting long shadows that stretched and warped.
The moment his foot touched the bottom step—
The threads screamed.
Kael gasped and nearly fell.
They surged into view without permission, flooding his vision in pale, overlapping lines. Thousands of them—woven through walls, rails, pipes, people. Intersections of intent and structure tangled together in dizzying complexity.
Too much.
He clenched his jaw, forcing his focus inward.
Control.
Filter.
One layer only.
The chaos dulled, receding to the edges of his perception. Enough to function. Not enough to drown.
That's when he felt it.
A pattern.
Clean. Deliberate. Moving.
Kael's stomach dropped.
Someone was tracking him.
Not by sight.
Not by sound.
By impact.
Every place Kael passed through left a faint disturbance in the threads, like ripples on still water. And something—someone—was following those ripples backward.
An observer, Kael realized.
Not just watching.
Hunting.
He broke into a jog, boots slapping against damp concrete. The passage opened into a wider platform, empty except for a broken train car and flickering signs.
Kael slid behind a pillar, chest heaving.
Think.
Don't run blindly.
Running made it worse. Movement created disturbance. The more he panicked, the clearer his trail became.
He needed noise.
Not physical noise.
Structural noise.
Kael closed his eyes for half a second and reached outward—not to move anything, but to nudge. He brushed the threads along the ceiling supports, the rail lines, the rusted train car.
Tiny adjustments.
The environment responded.
A loose panel rattled and fell. Lights flickered harder. A low hum surged through the rails.
Kael moved with the disruption, slipping into the shadow of the train car as the threads tangled chaotically.
For a moment—
Nothing.
Then footsteps echoed onto the platform.
Slow. Measured. Unhurried.
Kael held his breath.
A man stepped into view.
Black coat. Gloves. Hair neatly tied back. His posture was relaxed, almost bored. He didn't scan the area like a normal person.
He listened.
Kael felt it—the faint pull of attention, brushing the aftermath of disturbed threads, tracing cause and effect with surgical precision.
The man stopped.
Tilted his head.
"Interesting," he said softly.
Kael's heart hammered.
This wasn't a scout.
This was a professional.
The man walked forward, boots echoing. He didn't look at the train car directly, but Kael knew—he was narrowing it down.
The observer paused again.
"Your control is poor," the man continued conversationally, "but your instinct is adequate."
Kael swallowed hard.
The pendant vibrated faintly.
Not warning.
Encouragement.
Use me.
No.
Kael clenched his fists, nails biting into his palms.
He focused—not on the man, but on the space between them. The intersecting threads that carried sound, balance, motion.
He tugged—just slightly.
The platform floor lurched.
The observer reacted instantly, stepping back with inhuman balance. His eyes sharpened, finally locking onto the train car.
"There you are."
Kael ran.
Not forward.
Down.
He dropped beneath the train car, rolling hard as pain flared through his shoulder. He scrambled to his feet and sprinted into a maintenance tunnel just as something shifted behind him.
The air tightened.
Pressure slammed into Kael's back, throwing him forward. He hit the ground hard, vision swimming.
Behind him, the observer stood at the tunnel entrance, eyes glowing faintly—not with light, but clarity.
"You learn quickly," the man said. "But not quickly enough."
Kael pushed himself up, teeth clenched, mind screaming.
This wasn't a fight.
This was an examination.
And he was failing.
The pendant pulsed—stronger this time.
Kael made a choice.
Not to attack.
Not to escape.
But to vanish.
He reached outward wildly—not with finesse, but intent—and pulled at everything he could feel. Threads tangled violently as the tunnel lights exploded in a shower of sparks.
Darkness swallowed the passage.
Kael bolted.
Pain detonated behind his eyes, white-hot and blinding. His thoughts fragmented, slipping through his grasp like water.
But he kept running.
Up ladders. Through side exits. Into the rain-soaked streets of Argentinis.
By the time he collapsed in an alley hours later, shaking and soaked to the bone, the pressure was gone.
The observer had stopped following.
Not because Kael was safe—
But because the hunt was complete.
Somewhere above the city, a man adjusted his gloves and made a note.
"Subject survives," he murmured. "Adaptable. Dangerous."
In the alley, Kael curled against the wall, chest heaving, vision unfocused.
He had escaped.
Alone.
Barely.
And he knew—deep in his bones—
Next time, running wouldn't be enough to save himself.