Kael entered the apartment quietly.
No boots on.
No HUD open.
Just a long breath through his nose as he closed the door behind him and turned the lock without a sound.
The place was dark except for the soft glow of Senna's nightlight — a shifting orb above her bedroom door, casting slow-moving clouds along the hallway ceiling.
He watched the light dance for a moment.
Let it calm him.
Then walked to the sink.
The faucet whispered cold water onto his gloves as he peeled them off.
His fingers stung.
The nerves along his right palm still twitched, pulsing like they'd done too much for too long — even though he'd only cast once.
It wasn't casting, he reminded himself.
It was patching.
He twisted his wrist slowly under the stream, letting the sting dull.
Then turned to the mirror.
His face stared back.
No bags under his eyes yet — but close.
Hair slightly matted from the rain.
His forearm…
He paused.
Narrowed his eyes.
There.
A shimmer.
Right beneath the skin, between the bones and tendons of his inner forearm — a faint, almost imperceptible web of light.
It wasn't a reflection from the faucet.
It moved when he moved.
Just a flicker of glyphs, like someone had carved invisible circuitry beneath the surface.
He twisted his arm.
They twisted with him.
Gone when he looked directly.
Visible only in the mirror.
He leaned closer.
Exhaled.
The mirror fogged — then cleared.
Still there.
Just for a moment longer.
A humming crack of light.
As if something in his bloodstream had remembered the patch.
He stepped back.
Drying his hands. Slowly.
No alerts on his HUD.
No damage reports.
But the fear rose anyway.
It wasn't just data anymore.
The code's syncing to me. I patched a mob…
And now it's… patching back.
Behind him, a small voice stirred.
Sheets shifting.
Soft footsteps padded down the hallway.
"Papa…?"
Kael turned.
Senna stood there in her oversized sleep shirt, holding her sketchbook.
Hair wild. One sock missing.
"Can't sleep," she said.
Kael softened. Just enough to kneel.
"Bad dreams?"
She nodded.
He opened his arms and she walked right into them.
He closed his eyes.
Held her tighter than usual.
Because the crack was still glowing in the mirror.
It was nearly 2:00 a.m. when Kael opened the bathroom door again.
Liora hadn't stirred when he left the bed. She'd shifted once, curled tighter, one hand still resting on the pillow where his had been.
Senna was back in her room, sketchbook resting on her chest, open to a page of bright lines that made no sense — not yet.
Kael didn't turn the light on.
He just closed the door and pulled the mirror down from the wall.
Held it. Flat. Angled it toward his arm.
No water.
No steam.
No tricks of the light this time.
The glyph crack was still there.
And it had grown.
It didn't stretch far — maybe four inches across his inner forearm.
But it was clearer.
More defined.
No longer just a shimmer — now symbols.
Old ones.
Awakener glyphs, but wrong.
Half-flipped.
Backward.
Some glowing in reverse, their loops breaking inward.
A split vein of fractured light.
Kael held his breath and flexed his fingers.
The glyph responded.
Moved.
Just slightly — as if syncing to his muscles, his nerves, his intention.
He moved his pinky.
The lowest glyph shifted.
He splayed his hand.
The crack bloomed open for half a second — before retreating.
It's not a scar.
It's a live thread.
Kael raised his other hand.
Not to touch it.
To reach through it.
Edit glyph connection.
Access system echo.
Trace trigger?
Nothing on his HUD.
But the glyph pulsed once. Like it heard the thought.
Not yes.
Not no.
Just acknowledgment.
He dropped his arms and stared at the mirror.
There was no reflection of fear on his face.
Not yet.
But the weight was there.
He wasn't just carrying memory anymore.
He was carrying code.
And it was learning him back.
A flicker crossed the glass.
Not a Reaper.
Just static.
But Kael didn't flinch.
Because now, he understood.
The Reapers weren't just watching him for his choices.
They were watching to see if the system accepted him.
If it let him cheat reality.
If he'd do it again.
And he would.
He re-mounted the mirror.
Washed his hands again — ritual now, not hygiene.
Then stepped into the hall.
The clouds from Senna's nightlight still rolled quietly across the ceiling.
Kael watched them shift.
Silent.
Calm.
Like nothing was wrong.
Morning filtered in slow through the kitchen windows.
Warm, gold light across the counter.
Mugs still stacked from yesterday. Bread left out, half-stale. Crumbs that no one had the energy to clean.
Liora was still asleep in their room.
Kael stepped softly onto the tile.
Senna was already at the table, cross-legged on one of the chairs, sketchbook open in front of her.
She hummed lightly.
Crayons scattered around her like a spilled spell kit.
She didn't look up.
"You're up early," Kael said softly.
Senna smiled without turning. "I heard you walk."
"You heard me?" he asked, half-smirking. "I'm a ghost when I move."
"You have heavy socks," she said, without missing a beat.
He sat beside her.
Watched her draw for a moment.
She was working with her left hand today. Her dominant one. Her focused hand.
Lines came fast — looping, clean strokes in bright, impossible colors.
"You drawing another monster?"
She shook her head. "Nope."
Kael leaned closer.
His stomach tightened.
She was drawing him.
More specifically — a sketch of him in front of a mirror.
But in the mirror…
he was different.
"What's this?" he asked gently.
Senna tapped the mirrored half of the drawing.
"That's what the mirror showed. See?"
She pointed at his arm — the one she'd drawn with faint glow lines stretching across it. Thin. Spiderwebbed. Intricate.
She'd used silver crayon.
With a touch of gold in the cracks.
Kael kept his voice even.
"You saw this?"
Senna nodded. "Last night. When you were hugging me. I peeked."
"You… peeked at my arm?"
"At the mirror," she clarified. "The crack-light was there. But only in the mirror. Not on you."
She shrugged. "I thought it was pretty."
Kael stared at the drawing.
It was… accurate.
Too accurate.
The line work wasn't child-scribbled. It was simplified, yes — but the angles were correct. The glyph flow. The symmetry.
He looked back at her.
And smiled.
Tightly.
"Don't tell Mama about that one, okay?"
Senna looked at him, curious.
"Why not?"
"It's just pretend. Right?"
She hesitated.
Looked at the drawing again.
Then nodded slowly.
"Okay. Pretend."
But her eyes didn't fully believe it.
And neither did he.
Morning filtered in slow through the kitchen windows.
Warm, gold light across the counter.
Mugs still stacked from yesterday. Bread left out, half-stale. Crumbs that no one had the energy to clean.
Liora was still asleep in their room.
Kael stepped softly onto the tile.
Senna was already at the table, cross-legged on one of the chairs, sketchbook open in front of her.
She hummed lightly.
Crayons scattered around her like a spilled spell kit.
She didn't look up.
"You're up early," Kael said softly.
Senna smiled without turning. "I heard you walk."
"You heard me?" he asked, half-smirking. "I'm a ghost when I move."
"You have heavy socks," she said, without missing a beat.
He sat beside her.
Watched her draw for a moment.
She was working with her left hand today. Her dominant one. Her focused hand.
Lines came fast — looping, clean strokes in bright, impossible colors.
"You drawing another monster?"
She shook her head. "Nope."
Kael leaned closer.
His stomach tightened.
She was drawing him.
More specifically — a sketch of him in front of a mirror.
But in the mirror…
he was different.
"What's this?" he asked gently.
Senna tapped the mirrored half of the drawing.
"That's what the mirror showed. See?"
She pointed at his arm — the one she'd drawn with faint glow lines stretching across it. Thin. Spiderwebbed. Intricate.
She'd used silver crayon.
With a touch of gold in the cracks.
Kael kept his voice even.
"You saw this?"
Senna nodded. "Last night. When you were hugging me. I peeked."
"You… peeked at my arm?"
"At the mirror," she clarified. "The crack-light was there. But only in the mirror. Not on you."
She shrugged. "I thought it was pretty."
Kael stared at the drawing.
It was… accurate.
Too accurate.
The line work wasn't child-scribbled. It was simplified, yes — but the angles were correct. The glyph flow. The symmetry.
He looked back at her.
And smiled.
Tightly.
"Don't tell Mama about that one, okay?"
Senna looked at him, curious.
"Why not?"
"It's just pretend. Right?"
She hesitated.
Looked at the drawing again.
Then nodded slowly.
"Okay. Pretend."
But her eyes didn't fully believe it.
And neither did he.
That night, once Liora was asleep again and Senna's light dimmed to a flicker, Kael slipped into the corner of the apartment where signal silence was strongest.
He sat on the old floor cushion beside the holo-shelf.
Closed his eyes.
And called the system back up.
[RAID RECORD: COMPLETE – S9-ANCHOR FIELD]
[REWARD LOGGED – 200g | 0.04% XP]
[REAPER TRACE: ECHO STATUS – DORMANT]
[GLYPH EDIT: UNAUTHORIZED]
[VISUAL TRACE: MANIFESTED]
[STATUS: FLAGGED (INTERNAL)]
That was all familiar.
All manageable.
Then came the new entry.
It pulsed gently.
Not red.
Not hostile.
Just there.
[SYNC TRACE: PERSISTENT GLYPH RESIDUE DETECTED]
[LOCATION: NON-INSTANCE / NON-RAID ZONE]
[ORIGIN: USER ID K.AEL-1922]
[STATUS: LIVE THREAD – PASSIVE / NON-VOLATILE]
[NOTE: ANOMALY OUTSIDE ASSIGNED GATE PARAMETERS]
Kael stared.
Re-read.
Sat back against the wall.
It's not staying inside.
It followed me out.
The glyph.
The patch.
The rollback.
It was rewriting more than memory now.
It was rewriting him.
Not enough to kill him.
But enough to matter.
A cursor blinked below the log.
Waiting.
No commands entered.
Kael didn't move for a long time.
Then finally whispered:
"...I thought I was fixing it."
The HUD didn't respond.
The sync trace blinked once.
Then stayed.
He closed the display with a flick.
Let darkness return.
No beeps.
No alarms.
Just the city's faint glow through the blinds.
And somewhere, beneath the skin of his forearm…
a line of glyphs hummed.