The workshop had been Marcus's territory for weeks, but it had never felt like territory until the day Harren arrived with guards and began marking off restricted zones.
The boundaries were subtle at first—chalk marks on the floor indicating where general residents should not venture, shelving reorganized to create a clear separation between Anya's workspace and Marcus's. But the message was unmistakable: even within the space Marcus had been using, there were now areas where his presence was not permitted.
"Nothing personal," Harren said, checking his notations against a diagram. "Just practical. If something goes wrong—if you lose control—we need containment areas that limit casualty radius."
"Casualty radius," Marcus repeated flatly.
"We saw what happened when you manifested fully during the siege," Harren said, not unkindly but with the practical assessment of someone trained to manage risk. "You broadcasted your consciousness outward at full power. Guards who were thirty feet away from you experienced psychological trauma that took them days to recover from. If that happens again while residents are in the workshop, we could have injuries or worse."
Marcus wanted to argue that he had better control now, but the argument would be dishonest. The truth was that he didn't know what he was capable of anymore. The truth was that his power seemed to expand almost daily, and the boundaries of his control seemed to shrink proportionally.
"Where can I work?" Marcus asked.
"Here," Harren said, pointing to the marked-off section of the workshop. "And in the barrier generator rooms. Those are isolated enough that your presence won't affect general populations. Anya will work with you in both locations, but others will be restricted."
"What about my quarters?"
"Reassigned. You'll be housed in the eastern tower—farthest point from residential areas. Close enough to the workshop that you can access it during designated times. Isolated enough that your mana presence won't affect the community."
The council formalized the protocols three days later.
Marcus sat across from the leadership—Anya, Lysera, Harren, Father Thorne, Cairn—and listened while they established the rules that would govern his continued existence in Haven.
"Designated areas," Anya read from a handwritten document. "Workshop primary zone, barrier generator chambers, eastern tower residence. Restricted areas: residential zones, community gathering spaces, the sanctuary. General population areas by appointment only."
"Escort requirements," Lysera continued. "You will not travel between permitted areas without a designated escort. Initially, this will be myself or Father Thorne. Eventually, we can revise based on demonstrated control."
"Regular monitoring," Cairn said, his multi-layered voice making the words seem to echo slightly. "Weekly meetings with myself to assess spiritual and psychological state. If deterioration is noted, frequency will increase."
"Transparency protocols," Father Thorne added. "Any incidents involving power manifestation, any intensification of Lilith's influence, any sense of losing self-control will be reported immediately. Failure to report is considered breach of agreement."
"And the consequences for breach?" Marcus asked.
The council exchanged looks. Then Harren answered: "Exile from Haven. Immediate and absolute. You'll be provided supplies and a direction, and you won't be permitted to return."
"Or," Cairn said carefully, "if the manifestation is severe enough to constitute immediate threat, more permanent measures may be necessary."
More permanent measures. Marcus understood what that meant. Understood that the community that had sheltered him was establishing a kill-switch. Understood that if he became too dangerous, they would find a way to use his own power against him or find someone capable of matching him.
It should have frightened him. Instead, it was almost comforting. At least the terms were clear.
"I accept," Marcus said.
The real impact of the protocols became apparent over the following days.
His quarters in the eastern tower were adequate—a space with bed, minimal furniture, and large windows that looked out over the Confluence's transformed terrain. But it was isolation disguised as accommodation. When he walked through Haven's common areas with Lysera as escort, residents would move away from him. Not aggressively, but noticeably. The way people moved around natural disasters—present but actively avoided.
Children were particularly sensitive. They would cry or become agitated when Marcus approached, their instincts recognizing something wrong in his presence at a level their conscious minds couldn't articulate.
The animals were worse. Haven's few remaining domestic creatures—two horses, several chickens—would bolt if Marcus drew near. The crystalline formations covering his skin seemed to broadcast something predatory to creatures at the subconscious level. They knew, without knowing how they knew, that he was a threat.
"They'll adjust," Lysera said, walking with him one evening as dusk settled over Haven. "Animals are more sensitive to mana than humans. But they adapt. Given time."
"How much time?" Marcus asked.
"Years. Probably. Maybe decades."
Marcus felt the weight of those words. Decades of being avoided. Decades of being escorted like a dangerous asset. Decades of isolation in the community that had been his sanctuary.
"I'm leaving," he said. "Not immediately. But soon. When I've finished the barrier modifications and trained the next generation on maintaining the technology."
Lysera didn't seem surprised. "Where will you go?"
"I don't know. Hunting for other threats, I suppose. Lilith is patient but purposeful. She has larger plans. I'm beginning to understand that Haven was just the first stage of those plans."
"Will you come back?"
Marcus considered the question honestly. "I want to. I want to return to this place and prove that I'm more than what the Weaver made me. But I don't know if that's possible anymore. I don't know if Marcus Hayes is a person capable of returning or just a vestigial memory wearing a man's skin."
Lysera stopped walking and turned to face him. "Then make it possible. Make the choice to return while you still can. Because I think the moment you accept that you're only Lilith's instrument is the moment you become truly lost."
Mira's emergence became visible during the second week of protocols.
She appeared first as a voice of caution—suggesting that perhaps the community had overcommitted to the barrier technology development, that perhaps resources might be better allocated to simpler, more sustainable approaches. She suggested this gently, in small gatherings, to people who were growing tired of scarcity and danger.
"We survived the siege," she said, standing in one of the common areas where residents gathered for meals. "We can survive future threats with simpler approaches. We don't need a weapon that consumes resources and requires a dangerous asset's constant oversight."
It was subtle. It was reasonable-sounding. It was also directly undermining the leadership council's decisions.
Lysera noticed. "She's building a faction," the elf warrior reported to the council. "Not openly, but systematically. She's speaking privately with key residents, asking them whether they feel safe with Marcus in Haven."
"She's not wrong," Harren said carefully. "Some of the guards feel nervous. Some of the families with young children are requesting reassignment away from anywhere Marcus might appear."
"So we exile him," Anya said bitterly. "Because some people are uncomfortable?"
"No," Father Thorne said. "But we acknowledge that some discomfort is legitimate. And we don't pretend that his presence here is cost-free."
Cairn remained silent, his strange eyes fixed on something that didn't quite exist in the material plane.
Marcus became aware of the faction through Anya.
"Mira is suggesting you should leave," Anya said while they worked on barrier modifications in the isolated workshop chamber. "Suggesting that Haven would be safer without you."
"Haven would be safer without me," Marcus agreed. "She's not wrong."
"She is wrong," Anya said firmly. "She's wrong because the technology you've developed is crucial for Haven's long-term survival. She's wrong because your presence, while challenging, is also protective. She's wrong because she's motivated by political ambition rather than community welfare."
"What do you want from me?" Marcus asked.
"I want you to keep working. I want you to finish the barrier modifications. I want you to train the next generation. And I want you to leave on your own terms, not because you were driven out by political pressure."
Marcus nodded slowly. He could do that. He could give Haven that much—the complete transfer of technical knowledge, the finalization of barrier systems, the training of successors. It was a debt he owed them. A way of honoring Lily's memory.
"Three months," he said. "Give me three months, and the barrier technology will be fully operational without my direct involvement. After that, I leave."
"And if Mira tries to force you out before three months are finished?"
"Then Lysera knows where to find me," Marcus said. "And we deal with Mira's faction in whatever way becomes necessary."