The kitchen smelled of warm cardamom and faint lemon, Ana's mother had likely used one of her steeped herbal blends. Sera Weber sat at the table, posture poised, one ankle tucked neatly over the other. Her notepad lay open before her, its surface half-filled with crisp, angular handwriting. A steaming cup of tea rested beside it, untouched until now.
She finally took a sip, closed her eyes for a brief second, and said, "This is excellent. Thank you."
Ana stood across from her, arms folded. Her expression, as always, was tight and wary. Her violet eyes studied the woman behind the glasses like she was waiting for some sharp edge to flash.
"No problem," she said. "But… Why are you here? You said it was an interview, but about what, exactly?"
Sera looked up, slow and deliberate. Her grey eyes met Ana's without blinking. She shut the notepad with a soft click of her fingers.
"I'm here," she said plainly, "to ask you about your relationship with Ruben Rayo."
Ana's lips parted slightly, surprise etched into her face, but only for a second.
Sera leaned back in her chair. "Under current BPA protocols, I'm required to disclose my Ego before we continue. I'm not a Paladin, so I don't have the same clearance they do."
She took off her glasses, cleaned them slowly with a cloth from her coat pocket, and continued. "My Ego is called Schism 1999. It is a mind type ability that activates whenever someone speaks. I see what you are thinking internally when speaking, what you mean. It appears around you only to me, like subtitles."
Ana blinked. Then her arms folded tighter, as if her entire body was instinctively closing in.
"You don't have to worry," Sera added, her voice smooth but cool. "As long as your sincere, everything will be alright."
Ana swallowed. Her voice came out low, wary. "Is Ruben in trouble?"
"I'm trying to figure that one out," Sera replied. "That's all I can say."
A long pause.
Ana sat across from her slowly, dragging the chair legs with a scrape. "I'll answer whatever you need."
Sera nodded once and clicked her pen. She started easy.
"What was he like? As a classmate?"
Ana blinked again, surprised by the softness of the question. "Quiet," she said. "But never closed off. He listened. He was… open-minded."
Above Ana's head, Schism 1999 glowed.
| "Quiet. Thoughtful. Sad sometimes. More patient than other classmates, especially Corbin."
Sera scribbled without looking. "Did he ever have a bad relationship with anyone?"
Ana paused. Stuttered. "No, not really."
|"Me. We fought. I said awful things and so did he. He avoided me for some time."
Sera lifted her head. "You're lying."
Ana's eyes widened.
"I told you how this works," Sera said calmly.
Ana gave a tiny, awkward laugh. "Sorry. I… I wanted to see if it really worked."
Sera didn't smile. "And?"
"It works."
Sera nodded. "So? What happened?"
Ana exhaled and spoke softer now. "Near the end of the year, we argued. It was stupid, maybe. But after that it was hard to go up to him."
|"I felt guilty. He forgave me, but I still feel so wrong about everything that happened."
Sera's pen paused. She remembered reading the old file. Ruben had fallen into a soma. Drug-induced. It was a quiet case that was hard to get the files on.
She scoffed inwardly.
"Was it about the drugs?"
Ana froze. "...I…"
"You won't be in trouble," Sera said. "Unless you've committed a crime. This is about him."
Ana folded tighter into herself.
"Yes," she whispered. "It was about that. I knew. I never told anyone."
Sera tilted her head. "Why?"
Ana closed her eyes. "Because of how it made me feel."
"Explain."
Ana's voice cracked faintly as she spoke. "My Ego is called Empath. My Ego doesn't just read emotions. It drowns me in them. I feel everything so intensely. It's like being stuck in a radio tower with every signal at once. And when Ruben was on that stuff… he felt peaceful. Blissful. And I couldn't let go of that."
Her hands trembled.
Sera reached across the table and placed a hand over Ana's. Warm and steady. "That's okay."
She gave a rare smile. "That's enough for today."
She reached into her bag and pulled out a soft grey beanie. A paper tag with a small rune hung from the inside seam. "This," she said, "is temporary. A prop I brought just for today. It's got a dampener effect on it. It should soften your reception."
Ana stared at it. Then, cautiously, she took it and pulled it on.
Almost immediately, her body loosened. Her jaw unclenched. Her shoulders dropped.
Relief. Like an exhale through her entire body.
Sera watched with quiet satisfaction. Then pulled out a card and slid it across the table.
"When you're ready to control it, really control it, call me. I can connect you to proper help. And your Ego… it's valuable. Almost like mine."
Ana sniffed. Gave a small, grateful smile. "I never wanted to be a paladin."
"You don't have to be one," Sera said, standing. "I'm not one either. Just an investigator."
She bowed politely. "Thank you for your time Ana."
Ana nodded. "Thank you… really."
***
Sera stepped into the cooling evening air. Her coat flared behind her as she walked, eyes scanning the faces of the crowd. She entered a small cafe tucked between a bookstore and a pharmacy.
She ordered as soon as she got to the counter.
"Cardamom lavender latte. Oat milk. One raspberry-glazed donut."
The barista blinked. "Coming right up."
Moments later, Sera stepped out with her drink and pastry, watching the streetlights flicker to life and the people shuffle past like echoes of one another.
She took another long sip of her coffee. Bitter and fragrant.
"Didn't get much," she murmured to herself, "about Ruben Rayo."
Another sip.
He and Corbin, basically erased. Just like she was told when she took on the job. No past. And if they did have one, everything was wiped out. Maybe they would have to search for more specific ego users to figure it out for them.
She took one last look at the crowd.
"It doesn't matter."
She sipped again, eyes cold.
Everything eventually comes to light.
***
The room was quiet in the way only a true home could be. Shelves filled with antique books and thick glassware gleamed beneath the mellow light of a hanging chandelier. Through the arched windows, the capital lights of Ostara shimmered softly like faraway stars, barely muffled by the summer fog.
President Edric Maelstrom Vireux sat in a high backed chair beside the fire, his coat hung on the bronze rack behind him. He wore a black turtleneck and navy slacks, a small break in his otherwise ever-formal image. Across from him stood Dario Kosta, motionless, save for the show of unclenching of his jaw.
"You're certain?" Edric asked, his voice low but not without concern.
Dario nodded once. "Alfred is making his move."
He stepped forward and stopped near the edge of the rug, his silhouette drawn sharply by the fireplace glow. "I've felt it coming for months now, but today confirmed it. And I…" he exhaled through his nose, "there really isn't much I can do about it. Not without people getting hurt."
Edric leaned forward slightly, forearms resting on his knees, eyes intent. "And you're worried it'll harm your boys?"
Dario didn't answer immediately. He reached up, unfastened the collar of his coat, and sat in the empty chair across from the president. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than usual.
"I think this could stunt them," he said. "If I push back too hard, it may become a war. They'll be weaponized in the middle of it. Too early for them."
Edric studied him closely. "You've fought for decades, Dario. You've led campaigns that changed the shape of this world. Why place so much faith in those two boys?"
Dario didn't look up at first. His fingers tightened slightly, then released.
"Because I have done so much wrong," he said. "I've spent so much of my life enforcing someone else's idea of order. Crushing rebellion. Repeating brutal cycles. I think if I raise them right, if I can guide them to believe in something of their own, then I could have done something correctly. As long as they don't harm others in the way that I have."
He looked up finally. "They can be courageous in ways I never was. Not until it was far too late."
Edric's expression didn't change, but his brow furrowed. "You're still one of the most influential people on the planet. You're not done yet."
Dario gave a dry, mirthless smile. "That influence was built on a lie. On a darker part of me I kept hidden. Ruthless." He held up his hand and slowly closed it into a fist. "This hand has ended thousands. Many folded under my command. And for all my power, for all my strength, there are nights I wish I'd been born as someone else. Just a man. Not a Paladin."
The words hung in the room like smoke.
Edric's voice came gently. "You say that… but there are people, millions, who are alive today because of you. You've inspired generations of Paladin and repelled war attempts just because of your mere existence."
Dario lowered his gaze. "Maybe." A pause. "But my soul is soaked in blood. And I've seen enough to know the Sage won't let me pass lightly."
A longer silence followed.
Then, with a small shake of his head, Dario said, "Forgive me. I didn't mean to bring this here. You have enough to bear already."
Edric tilted his head slightly, a half-smile at the edge of his beard. "You think I don't welcome honesty in this house? I wish more men in your position showed this kind of weakness. It's a rare strength."
Dario sighed and shifted in his seat. "Some of those things I did, it's likely to come out now. Alfred doesn't act without planning years in advance. Decades if he wants to take me down. He's trying to poison the soil so nothing I plant will take root."
Edric nodded, but his eyes darkened. "Dario, do you believe he'd go as far as trying to kill you?"
Dario answered without hesitation. "Yes. But if he does, it means he already has someone prepared to step in. Probably not as strong, but close enough to carry his vision. To reshape the nation the way he wants."
The president leaned back in his chair, a long breath escaping from his chest. "Then my position may as well be as good as dead."
Dario met his gaze directly. "Your life is what you should be worrying about."
That earned the faintest chuckle. "I won't die easily," Edric said. "I still have cards left unplayed. Failsafes. And I believe when everything starts to fall, some will open their eyes and stick to the right path. We're not as outnumbered as Alfred would like to think."
Dario offered a nod of quiet respect. Then Edric's tone softened. "What about the two boys? Corbin and Ruben?"
"They'll have a hard road ahead of them now that Alfred seems to have some odd plans for them." Dario said. "They've already been drawn into this, whether they understand the scale or not. Alfred won't let them go so simply. But I've arranged something already."
Edric looked curious. "What kind of something?"
"I reached out to someone I trust. Someone capable. An old friend. An old student of mine." Dario replied. "She agreed to take them in. Guide them however she sees fit."
Edric's eyes widened. "A student?" Dario has had a few students in his time as a Paladin. One group and one apprentice that he taught on his own.
Dario smiled faintly. "You know the one."
The president straightened in his seat, stunned. But Dario held up a hand.
"She's alright. Stronger now I guess." Dario said as he itched and rubbed in his ear.
For a moment, Edric looked as if he'd been struck by a ghost from the past. Then a laugh bubbled up, quiet and amused.
"Juno." he said the name aloud. "I remember how many at the Bureau used to speak of her. The strange girl with eyes like a mirror reflecting a tornado. She was cursed right?"
"More than just cursed." Dario said. "But her story isn't for me to tell."
Edric swung his arms under his desk and pulled up a bottle of whiskey and poured two cups up for him and Dario.
They sipped and when Dario placed his glass down he spoke again.
"She will help the boys grow whether I'm here or not after what is to come."
***
The light in the room was muted, streaking in orange slants through the tall windows, casting long shadows on the polished wood floor. The air smelled of lemon balm, leftovers from whatever incense the housekeeper had been burning earlier.
Corbin paced, his feet moving in tight figure eights over the same stretch of the floor between the dresser and the edge of Ruben's bed. His dark blue tank top clung to his back, damp with sweat, and joggers he wore folded up above his ankles, barefoot. His jaw was tight, the way it always was when his thoughts had nowhere to go but through his body.
Across from him, Ruben lounged on the bed, one arm folded behind his head, his other hand repeatedly tossing a tennis ball at the wall. THWACK. THWACK. The rhythm of it was maddening.
Two days. That's how long it had been since the Trials. Since they'd fought, bled, survived. Since they'd been branded, if not outright criminals, then at least something dangerously close. Yet no word from Dario.
No update.
"Still nothing," Corbin muttered, more to himself than to Ruben. "Two days, and not a single goddamn explanation. Not a briefing. Not even a half-assed apology, since that's what we're owed."
The tennis ball hit the wall and came back. Ruben caught it. Didn't speak.
Corbin stopped pacing and turned to face him, tension burning through his veins. "Do you even care?"
Ruben blinked. "Of course I care."
"You don't act like it."
"I'm just not pacing a hole through the floor about it."
"You should be," Corbin snapped, stepping closer. "You know what they're saying about us? That we're connected to some big incident that killed so many people. That we're experiments. Like we're freaks. And Elijah… that fucking rat killed someone, man. Our own classmate. Like nothing."
Ruben's eyes flickered, and for a moment, the ball slowed in his hands.
Corbin continued. "And you were all chummy with him. Barely an hour later and he's dead."
Ruben sat up straighter, tossing the ball one last time and catching it mid-air. "I know what happened," he said in a firm and more sharp tone. "I'm not pretending it didn't get to me. But I'm not gonna scream about it, either. That never helped me. Never made things better."
Corbin scoffed. "So what, you're gonna bottle it all up? Let it sit in your head like acid until it eats you up and you run back to your vices…"
Ruben narrowed his eyes, trying hardly not to show an expression of surprise that Corbin would bring something like that up after everything.
He stood, then stepped on the wooden floor with a slow, measured calm. He was wearing a red hoodie, sleeveless, the hem loose at his waist, and black shorts that brushed his knees. His arms, toned but lean, tensed as he lifted his shirt and turned slightly, revealing the almost-faded scar along his side. A curved, silvery gash just beneath his ribs. Elijah's parting gift.
"I am mad," he said, quietly. "I think about what he did every time I move, every time I breathe too hard and feel the pull where the blade went in. I want to get him back. I want him to feel what I felt. But we're not ready for that. We're nothing right now. Little fish in a big pond, remember? We don't know enough. We're not strong enough. Every person we've faced since this started has been ahead of us. We're usually lucky if we win."
Silence clung to the room for a few seconds.
Then the door slid open violently.
"I knew I heard you talking in here," came Dario's voice, loud and warm like thunder in the distance. "And Ruben's right."
Ruben jerked his head towards the door, groaning as Dario crossed the threshold with that same irritating smile he always wore. His long coat was slung over one shoulder, and his white button down sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.
He walked like a man who knew every square inch of his house blindfolded, and without warning, he reached forward and tousled Ruben's hair.
Ruben recoiled, brushing the man's massive hand away. "Don't do that. I just took them out."
Dario laughed. "Yeah, I know. They're all curly now. You look twelve again." He winked, not even remembering that he first met them when they were thirteen. Dario sat down on the edge of Ruben's bed, stretching one leg out and sighing.
Corbin crossed his arms, tone hard. "So you have been listening."
Dario raised his eyebrows innocently. "My house. I'm allowed to sneak around and eavesdrop as long as I'm not caught." He leaned back a little . "And besides, no one called me out until now."
Corbin's jaw tensed. "You've been ducking us."
"Not ducking… just… pacing the length of my patience with the Bureau. And waiting for the right time."
Corbin didn't buy it. "You mean making dumb jokes and avoiding real answers."
"I make dumb jokes and avoid real answers." Dario replied with a grin. Then his face settled into something more serious. "But Ruben's right. You two have been starting off behind since day one. It's time I changed that."
Corbin didn't respond right away. He stared at the man, jaw clenched, eyes dark. Then, with a breath that shook, he finally asked the question that had been gnawing at his throat.
"Why?" His voice was low. "Why is everyone acting like we're monsters? Why do they think we caused the Gresham Breach? Why are we being treated like we don't belong anywhere?"
The words hit harder than Dario expected. He watched Corbin's chest rise and fall, the fury just barely under control. Ruben reached out and tapped his shoulder, just once, and Corbin inhaled sharply. His body eased.
Dario folded his hands. "I can't give you all the answers. Not yet anyway. There's no time for the full picture. But I can tell you this, that man Alfred Stein is dangerous and untrustworthy. He is about to change the rules. And when they are changed, the only thing that will keep you afloat is how well you understand your truth."
He paused, the words hanging like a pivot in the air.
"You've survived," Dario said, voice softening. "But again, surviving is not enough. You need to know the game. You need to grow past whatever you were when you walked into those trials."
Corbin's eyes narrowed, but he nodded. It didn't matter what, he still trusted Dario with his life.
Ruben exhaled. "So what's next?"
Dario stood slowly, his gaze shifting between the two of them. "What's next…? Training. By your's truly. There's also some things you need to know."
The three of them left the room with a clear objective on the next phase in their journey.