Kael felt it before anyone spoke to him.
The sensation wasn't the hum from earlier—it was sharper, focused. Attention that had weight behind it. He adjusted his path subtly, angling toward a quieter stretch of the settlement where the buildings gave way to training yards and storage courtyards.
He didn't look back.
Looking back confirmed interest.
"Independent."
The voice came from his left.
Kael stopped.
He turned just enough to acknowledge the speaker without opening his stance. A woman stood near the edge of a courtyard, arms folded loosely, posture relaxed in a way that came only from confidence backed by authority.
No banner. No crest worn openly.
But the sunburst mark was etched into the metal clasp at her shoulder.
Not a soldier.
An observer.
"You move like someone who knows when not to act," she continued. "That's rare."
Kael said nothing.
Silence stretched. The woman smiled faintly—not friendly, not hostile.
"That was correction back there," she said, as if continuing an old conversation. "Necessary. The route collapse wasn't sanctioned."
"Necessary for who?" Kael asked.
Her smile sharpened slightly. "For order."
"Order isn't the same as right."
"True," she conceded. "But it's easier to enforce."
Kael met her gaze fully now.
For the first time since entering the settlement, the pressure shifted—not outward, but inward. The woman felt it too. Her eyes narrowed, not in alarm, but recognition.
"You felt that," she said quietly.
"Yes."
"And you didn't cause it."
"No."
That unsettled her more than aggression would have.
"Interesting," she murmured. "Name?"
"Kael."
A pause. Longer this time.
"No crest," she said. "No house. No recorded affiliation." Her eyes flicked briefly, not to his hands, but to the space around him. "Yet you don't register like an unawakened."
"I didn't come here to register," Kael replied.
Her gaze hardened a fraction.
"Everyone comes here for something," she said. "They just don't always know what it is."
Kael stepped past her.
She didn't stop him.
But as he walked away, her voice followed him.
"Be careful," she said. "The houses don't like lines that don't belong to them."
Kael didn't respond.
He didn't need to.
As he reached the far end of the courtyard, the hum in his chest flared once—sharp, almost warning.
He slowed.
Across the open space, two figures were sparring. Controlled. Measured. One of them stumbled—not from a strike, but from pressure applied too precisely to be accidental.
The other froze.
Kael felt it clearly now.