The invitation arrived the same way everything else had lately.
Quietly.
Politely.
Impossible to refuse.
It was a message on Arav's phone—no sender, no timestamp.
You are requested to appear for assessment. Location attached. Non-attendance will be noted.
No threats.
No consequences listed.
That was the threat.
The building didn't exist on any map.
It sat between two municipal offices Arav had passed his entire life without noticing, narrow and unremarkable, its windows tinted just enough to reflect the city instead of revealing anything inside.
Security didn't stop him.
They recognized him.
That was worse.
Dr. Devavrata Rathod waited alone in the room.
No desk.
No files.
No guards.
Just a chair opposite him and a table with two glasses of water.
"You came," Devavrata said, voice calm.
"I was requested," Arav replied.
Devavrata inclined his head slightly. "Yes. That is how this works."
He gestured to the chair.
Arav sat.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Devavrata said, "The boy from the bus stop. Rohit Mehra."
Arav's jaw tightened.
"He will be released," Devavrata continued. "With medication. With a record. With an explanation that will follow him quietly for years."
"That explanation is a lie."
Devavrata met his gaze evenly. "It is a solution."
"To what?"
"To instability."
Arav leaned forward. "You created it."
"No," Devavrata corrected gently. "You revealed it."
The distinction hung between them.
"Do you know why most awakenings fail?" Devavrata asked.
Arav didn't answer.
"Because people mistake reaction for responsibility," Devavrata continued. "They act, and believe that absolves them."
"And you believe containment does?" Arav shot back.
"I believe uncontrolled visibility kills more people than silence ever has."
Devavrata stood, walking to the window.
"The city is not ready," he said. "And readiness cannot be rushed."
Arav rose as well. "So you let someone else take the blame."
"Yes."
"For something you know was real."
"Yes."
Devavrata turned.
"You continue acting," he said calmly. "But only when cleared. Only where allowed. Your visibility stays controlled. Your mistakes are contained."
Arav felt the words settle like restraints.
"This is not a request," Devavrata added. "It is a boundary."
Silence followed.
Then Arav asked quietly, "And if I don't comply?"
Devavrata didn't hesitate.
"Then you become the variable we must remove," he said. "Not because you are wrong. But because you are early."
That was the most frightening part.
Devavrata wasn't angry.
He was sincere.
As Arav left the building, the city looked unchanged.
Cars moved.
People argued.
Life continued.
But the pressure felt heavier now—structured, organized.
Inside his head, the system acknowledged the shift.
Operational Status Updated
Clearance Required: Active Engagement
No warning.
No protest.
Just parameters.
Arav stepped into the crowd, shoulders squared.
They weren't stopping him.
They were owning the terms under which he could exist.
And for the first time since the fractures began, Arav understood the real conflict.
Not shadows.
Not Gates.
But permission.