Abisha awoke in a haze.
The room was warm, unfamiliar, and too quiet. His body ached with the lingering sickness that had pulled him in and out of consciousness since leaving the forest. His eyes came into focus, looking up at a ceiling that seemed too smooth to be real, almost certain for a moment that everything had been a dream… the hut… the rain… his mother… Yitzhak.
Yitzhak!
He sat up too quickly and swayed. Just at that moment, a maid appeared in the doorway, bowing her head slightly before turning to call over her shoulder into the hallway.
"He's awake, master!"
Yair entered a moment later. Without a word, he dragged a stool next to the bed and sat down. His expression was unreadable.
The maid returned with a tray of warm food and a folded change of clothes. Abisha took them numbly. None of this felt real.
"Eat," Yair said. "You'll need your strength."
Through the tall windows of the estate, the sky looked thick and sickly. The air beyond seemed heavy enough to choke, dense with a gray haze that coated the distant remains of broken buildings. This estate stood untouched, a lone island in a crumbling world. Even the trees looked as though they no longer believed in spring. Earth, as man had known it for generations, was failing, if not already done.
With the help of the butler and maid, he cleaned up, changed, and ate slowly. It was the best meal he had ever had.
When he finished eating, Yair led him to a study tucked behind a pair of thick, arched doors. It was a strange space—a blend of ancient and modern. Walls of bookshelves cradled old tomes, while softly glowing machines hummed between them. The fireplace in the center burned with blue light.
Yair walked ahead of him and stopped by a high-backed chair.
"Your brother will not survive without access to red_alpha-tier treatment, and that access is locked behind blood and mark—essentially only those at or above a judge or state governor have access."
Abisha said nothing, jaw tight.
"There is one exception," Yair continued. "My position grants me access to the machine. But only for my legal family."
He turned and faced Abisha directly. "I meant what I said before. I am offering to adopt you both. But this will not be simple. The unmarked are seen as little more than beasts to those who run this world. There is red tape—and hatred."
Abisha met his eyes. "I still want it."
"But… um… why?" Abisha asked. "Why help us? Why go so far?" He knew vaguely of Yair; in fact, you would be hard-pressed to find someone in this sector—or even the five neighboring sectors—who didn't know of Yair, an unmarked working at the highest levels. Abisha thought, Wouldn't adopting us put a bigger target on Yair for hatred and spite?
Yair folded his arms and leaned against the edge of the desk. "A messenger told me I would receive a gift. Judging by the shape of things, I'd say it's the two of you."
His voice was cool, detached.
"I see something in you. A gift from God, the great I AM. The same kind that I carry."
Abisha stared, stunned.
Yair gave a small shrug. "I show love and care as my Master instructs. This isn't about kindness. It's about obedience."
He stepped forward.
"If you accept this, you enter a system that will never truly accept you. It will smile and sharpen knives behind your back; if you're lucky, it'll do it to your face. You don't belong to it, and it knows."
He let the silence settle.
"Are you willing to die for your God? It's not an if, but a when."
Abisha's voice was quiet, but steady. "I already promised Him. Even if my brother doesn't live, I would."
---
Then the adoption process began.
Files were filed.
Codes submitted.
Approval sought.
The system recoiled.
Once, while passing the study, Abisha paused at the sound of an unfamiliar and unnatural voice—distinctly that of a lower AI—coming from inside:
"—application rejected on grounds of genetic incompatibility with registered citizen protocols—"
Yair closed the channel with a flick, his face unreadable.
The moment the term "unmarked" entered the network, delays mounted. Questions were asked. Revisions demanded. Documents erased without warning.
Another time, as days passed in the estate's quiet halls, Abisha paused outside the study door.
"They erased the file again," the butler's voice said inside.
Yair's reply was calm, almost bored. "Then we file it again."
"They're not even pretending this is about procedure anymore. It's about what he is."
Silence.
Abisha moved on, the words trailing behind him like smoke.
The ones reviewing their case were not entirely human. The Network System's Officials operated on logic wrapped in prejudice and algorithms laced with contempt for the unmarked.
Abisha took to walking the estate in the still hours of the evening. One night, pausing at a tall window in the western hall, he drew the curtain aside.
Shapes stood beyond the lawn. At first, he thought they were trees—but they looked faintly like humans. Tall figures, pale and weightless, each holding a long sword whose tip rested lightly on the grass. Their eyes, bright as molten glass, watched the borders of the estate.
A breeze stirred, though the glass between them held. One of the figures turned its head toward him. The gaze carried a weight that pressed against his chest—not threatening, but absolute.
He let the curtain fall, stepped back, heart racing, and hurried to his room.
The next morning, a holographic meeting had been scheduled with the digital officials—essentially a fancy government AI.
"This is a mistake," one digital official said through the interface. "Corruption of pedigree."
Yair stood firm. "The boy has a gift. Sight. I am the only one qualified to train him."
"And the second?"
"He is blood. The tie between them is strong. His potential is latent due to illness."
The matter escalated. Human officials were brought in. A praetor in ceremonial robes reviewed the files in person. His tone was cold.
"Proof is required."
---
A test was scheduled.
Test day
Abisha stood outside a chamber at the end of a long, sterile corridor. The floor hummed faintly underfoot.
A man—or something close to one—stood in front of the door. His face and body were completely covered in a single flowing sheer cloth, draped from the head like a massive veil—and yet hiding nothing. He displayed his nakedness as though it were only right for all to see. Those dressed like this called themselves "priests of the higher one."
"You'll be put in a room," the figure said. "That's all you need to know."
Abisha's hands shook slightly at his sides, but he nodded.
He looked over his shoulder. Yair stood at the end of the hall, face expressionless as usual.
Abisha turned back, faced the door, and stepped inside.
The door slid shut behind him. The room was vast, white from floor to ceiling, with no shadows anywhere.
It should have felt empty — but it didn't. A presence of something could be felt here. Many ...somethings.