The Afternoon Fades
The family busied themselves with small tasks to fill the hours. Ren's mother washed dishes with unnecessary vigor; his father stepped outside to pace along the narrow street. Mira cleaned up the living room, though there was little to clean. Watson sat against the wall, arms crossed, brooding.
Yato remained still, seated with quiet patience. His presence was both reassuring and oppressive. A reminder that this gathering was not ordinary.
Ren tried to rest, but every attempt at calm only circled back to the same truth: evening was coming.
He stared at the ceiling of his small room, listening to the muffled sounds of his parents downstairs. A strange duality gnawed at him… part of him longed for the summons to never arrive, to stay here where things were familiar. Another part wanted it to come quickly, if only to end the waiting.
By the time the sun began its descent, painting Zone Five in hues of amber and rust, the tension in the house had coiled tight. Every sound from the street, every engine's hum, every knock of footsteps made them lift their heads, wondering if it had come.
Ren sat in the hall again, his family close, Yato beside him like a silent guardian.
And then it happened.
A low rumble of engines rolled into the street. Not ordinary civilian cars, but the distinct, disciplined movement of official transport. Sleek black vehicles, their mana cores thrumming with precision, drew to a halt outside the modest house.
The air inside stilled.
Ren's father rose first, his fists clenching at his side. His mother reached for Ren's shoulder, gripping tightly. Mira and Watson shifted into place beside him, instinctively protective.
Yato stood, his presence sharp, commanding. "They're here."
The knock at the door followed. Firm. Official. Irrefutable.
The waiting was over.
The knock did not last long, but its weight lingered.
Ren's father moved first, shoulders stiff as though walking into a storm. He opened the door slowly.
Outside, the street seemed swallowed by black. Three cars stood in formation, polished to a mirrored gleam. Their design was military-grade, streamlined but reinforced, mana-core engines pulsing with an unnatural steadiness.
From the lead car stepped two men in dark suits. They carried no weapons, or at least none visible, but everything in their posture screamed precision. The kind of people who could kill without raising their voices.
"Summoned party," one of them said, his tone clipped, official. "We are here by direct order of the President. Ren Calder is to accompany us."
His father's jaw tightened. "And his family?"
The envoy's eyes flicked over him, calculated, dismissive, then back to neutral. "The President's invitation is for Ren Calder only. Accompanying guests may be allowed to travel partway, but access to the estate is subject to clearance."
Tension flared immediately. Ren's mother stepped forward, her voice sharp. "He is not going anywhere without us."
The envoy did not argue. He simply tilted his head, as if her words were beneath the authority of reply. "You may ride. Clearance will be determined upon arrival."
Behind them, Yato approached the doorway. His presence shifted the envoy's posture instantly. Respect, or at least recognition.
"Magister Yato," the second envoy greeted, inclining his head. "We were informed you would attend."
Yato nodded once, his tone flat. "I will accompany him. His safety is my responsibility."
The envoy hesitated only a fraction before answering. "Very well. You will be expected."
Ren stood then. His legs felt heavier than stone, but he forced them to move. He glanced at Mira and Watson, who had flanked him without needing to be asked. Mira's hand brushed his arm briefly, a small, grounding touch. Watson muttered, "We're with you," low enough that only he could hear.
Ren's parents moved to his side, defiance burning in their eyes.
The envoy gestured to the waiting cars. "We leave now."
★★★
The family stepped outside together, the cool evening air biting sharper than usual. Neighbors peeked through curtains, whispers flickering behind glass. No one dared come closer.
The cars' doors opened with mechanical precision. Yato guided Ren forward, his hand steady on the boy's back.
Inside, the car's interior was lined with mana-threaded leather, the faint hum of wards stitched into its frame. Protection, or confinement. It was difficult to tell.
Ren sat between his parents. Mira and Watson slid in opposite directions, their eyes scanning every detail. Yato took the seat nearest the window, his presence filling the cramped space with authority.
The door shut.
Engines roared to life, low and steady. The convoy pulled forward, gliding down the narrow Zone Five street, leaving the small home shrinking into the distance.
Ren's mother kept her hand on his, as though afraid he would vanish if she let go. His father stared forward, jaw rigid. Mira watched the city blur past, silent and tense. Watson tapped his foot against the floor in a restless rhythm.
Only Yato sat still, watching the fading skyline of Elaris. His expression unreadable, his thoughts locked away.
Ren exhaled, slow and shallow. The city outside blurred into streaks of light. Somewhere ahead, past the ordered streets and fortified zones, lay the estate of the President. The man whose decision could alter everything.
For Ren, there was no turning back.
The summons had begun.
The ride began in silence.
The convoy moved like a single organism, three cars cutting through the veins of Zone Five with clinical precision. The hum of mana-engines filled the air, steady and unbroken, a sound that promised endurance rather than speed.
Ren sat between his parents, his mother's hand never leaving his own. The warmth of her palm trembled faintly, and he could feel the tension behind it. A fragile defiance that even she knew would not hold against what awaited. His father's silence was harder, heavier, the kind that turned into stone in a man's chest.
Watson shifted opposite him, restless, tapping one boot against the floor as if the rhythm could anchor his nerves. Mira had her gaze fixed on the passing windows, her reflection sharp against the glass, as though memorizing every detail of the city they were leaving behind.
Yato alone sat perfectly composed, head turned toward the fading skyline. His expression gave nothing away, but the faint press of his presence filled the confined space. A silent wall between Ren and whatever lay ahead.
The streets of Zone Five thinned quickly. Houses pressed tight together gave way to broader roads, lined with regulation lamps burning pale-blue mana light. Few people lingered outside; those who did lowered their gazes as the convoy passed, unwilling to be caught staring at military vehicles.
Ren felt the change in the air as much as he saw it. The mana density rose gradually, a pressure most would dismiss as imagination. Here, nearer the heart of the city, the currents were steadier, refined by countless arrays buried in stone and steel. Zone Five's chaotic hum gave way to Zone Four's measured pulse, then Zone Three's sharpened clarity.
Watson broke the silence first, muttering low, "Feels like we're climbing a mountain without moving."
Mira's eyes flicked toward him, then back outside. "That's because we are. Zone density isn't just luxury, it's hierarchy."
She wasn't wrong. Mana density had been part of Elaris' zoning laws for nearly a century. The wealthier and more influential, the closer one lived to the city's core, where arrays drew and stabilized the strongest flows. The poor were pushed outward, to places where the currents frayed and cracked. It was an invisible wall, yet more absolute than stone.