They reached the city by dusk.
Not the heart of it—too obvious, too guarded—but the outer districts where streets narrowed and buildings leaned close enough to share secrets. The air buzzed with human life: vendors closing stalls, children darting between doorways, the low murmur of conversations drifting through open windows.
Normal.
That was the danger.
"They're already here," Elara said quietly, the fracture inside her tightening like a warning thread pulled taut.
Kael scanned the streets, senses sharp. "I don't see anything."
"You won't," Mira replied. "If Thren is right, they won't look like enemies."
They followed the pull through winding alleys until it led them to a converted community hall. Warm light spilled from the windows. A banner hung above the door, freshly painted.
RESTORATION CLINIC — FREE HEALING FOR ALL
Elara's breath caught.
"That's them," she said. "The Conclave."
Kael's jaw clenched. "Healing? That's their strategy?"
"Yes," Mira answered grimly. "And that's what makes it effective."
Inside, the hall was full. People sat patiently in rows of chairs. Some looked tired. Others hopeful. At the front, several robed figures moved calmly among them, hands glowing faintly as they touched foreheads, shoulders, chests.
No screams.
No resistance.
Only relief.
Elara felt sick.
"They're not hurting them," Kael whispered. "At least not visibly."
"No," Elara replied. "They're overcorrecting."
She watched as a healer pressed both palms to a young woman's temples. The woman gasped once—then smiled serenely.
"I feel lighter," she said. "Like nothing weighs on me anymore."
The healer smiled back. "That is peace."
Elara stepped forward before Kael could stop her.
"What did you take?" she demanded.
The healer turned slowly. His eyes were bright, fervent—not cruel.
"We took nothing," he said calmly. "We released burden."
"That burden is memory," Elara said. "Pain. Loss."
"Yes," he replied without shame. "The sources of fracture."
Mira moved beside Elara. "You're not healing. You're erasing context."
The healer's expression hardened slightly. "Context is what breaks people."
A murmur rippled through the room.
Elara felt the fracture inside her respond—not with rage, but recognition.
"This is why you want me," she said softly. "You think I justify this."
The healer studied her closely.
"You are proof," he said. "Proof that the world can be corrected."
Elara shook her head. "I'm proof that it can be listened to."
Another healer stepped forward. "Listening is too slow. People suffer while you wait."
"And they suffer more when you decide for them," Elara shot back.
The room tensed.
Kael stepped forward, hand on his blade. "Enough. You stop this now."
The healer smiled sadly. "We can't."
"Why?" Mira asked.
"Because they asked us to," he replied, gesturing to the people seated around them.
Several nodded.
"I wanted it gone," the young woman said softly. "The grief. The anger. All of it."
Elara's heart cracked.
"And when it comes back?" Elara asked gently.
The woman frowned. "They said it wouldn't."
Silence fell.
Elara stepped closer, lowering her voice.
"They lied," she said. "Pain returns when it's denied. And when it does, it comes back sharper."
The healers exchanged glances.
One of them whispered, "She destabilizes certainty."
That was all it took.
The air shifted.
The healers' sigils flared brighter, pulsing in unison. The room filled with pressure—not violent, but overwhelming. People gasped, clutching their heads as the healing intensified, forced now rather than offered.
Kael swore. "They're pushing it!"
Elara felt the fracture surge, begging to respond.
But she remembered the river.
Do not destroy them.
She raised her voice—not shouting.
"Stop!" she said.
The word didn't command.
It interrupted.
The sigils flickered.
The pressure wavered.
Elara stepped into the center of the room.
"You think healing is removal," she said steadily. "But healing is integration. You cannot cut people away from their wounds without cutting away their selves."
One of the healers staggered, clutching his chest. "You're interfering!"
"Yes," Elara agreed. "Because you crossed from help into control."
The fracture inside her opened—not wide, not destructive.
Just enough.
The room breathed.
The forced light dimmed.
People slumped in their chairs, exhausted but conscious.
The healers stumbled back, shaken.
"This isn't over," the first healer said hoarsely.
"No," Elara replied. "It's just begun."
Outside, the city lights flickered.
Not failing.
Adjusting.
Kael grabbed Elara's arm as they hurried out the back entrance.
"That cost you," he said urgently. "I felt it."
She nodded, breath uneven. "Every time I push back without breaking them… it costs more."
Mira glanced over her shoulder. "And now they know exactly what you are."
Elara steadied herself, gaze hardening.
"Good," she said. "Then they'll also know this."
She looked back at the glowing hall, voices rising in confusion behind the walls.
"Healing without consent is just another kind of violence."
Behind them, unseen but attentive, the fracture listened.
And somewhere deeper still, forces that believed themselves saviors began to sharpen their