The shift came quietly.
No alarms.No sudden incidents.
Just… absence.
Rafe noticed it during breakfast.
Lyn's seat was empty.
Not unusual.
But her slate lay on the table—screen still active.
Mid-message.
Unfinished.
Rafe picked it up.
The last line read:
"They asked me to—"
Nothing after that.
The Anchor tightened—not in pain, not in warning.
In awareness.
He didn't run.
He didn't demand answers.
He walked.
First to Lyn's dormitory.
Room intact. No signs of struggle. Personal effects undisturbed.
Second to the administrative wing.
"Student Lyn Harrow?" he asked the clerk.
The woman hesitated for half a second too long.
"She's in evaluation," the clerk said.
"For what?"
"Routine reassessment."
Rafe nodded.
"Location?"
The clerk's smile was polite.
"Restricted."
Of course.
Elyra found him before he reached the lower corridors.
"You felt it," she said.
"Yes."
"She's not in danger," Elyra added quickly.
"That wasn't my question," Rafe replied.
Elyra's gaze sharpened.
"They requested a voluntary participation review," she said. "To study resilience under proximity."
Rafe held her eyes.
"Proximity to what?"
Elyra didn't answer immediately.
"…To you."
Silence settled.
There it was.
Personal.
They weren't threatening Lyn.
They were measuring her.
Measuring whether being near Rafe increased risk.Increased stability.Increased something.
If they could define that variable—
They could isolate it.
Rafe turned toward the evaluation wing.
Elyra stepped in front of him.
"You can't just walk in."
"Why?" he asked calmly.
"Because this isn't about harm," she said. "It's about influence."
Rafe's voice remained even.
"And I don't get to know how that's being framed?"
Elyra hesitated.
"They're testing emotional leverage."
The words hung between them.
The Commission had escalated.
Not by force.
By attachment.
Rafe stood outside the sealed evaluation chamber.
He didn't attempt to enter.
He didn't call out.
He simply stood there.
Still.
The Anchor settled into place like bedrock.
Minutes passed.
Inside, sensors recorded elevated stress markers—not from Lyn.
From the system.
Because Rafe wasn't acting.
He wasn't escalating.
He wasn't breaking the door down.
He was waiting.
And that made the metrics harder to interpret.
Inside the chamber, Lyn sat across from two evaluators.
They showed her projections.
Incident reports.Risk curves.Her proximity to Rafe highlighted in soft red.
"Do you feel safer around him?" one asked.
"Yes," Lyn said.
"Do you feel responsible for his actions?"
She frowned.
"No."
"Would you intervene if he hesitated?"
Lyn hesitated.
"…Yes."
Outside, Rafe closed his eyes.
That answer changed the model.
The door opened twenty minutes later.
Lyn stepped out.
She looked tired—but unhurt.
Rafe opened his eyes.
They met hers.
She smiled faintly.
"They asked strange questions," she said.
"I know," Rafe replied.
Elyra exhaled behind him.
"They'll log this as social reinforcement," she said quietly.
Rafe nodded.
"Good."
Elyra blinked.
"Good?"
"Yes," Rafe said. "Because reinforcement works both ways."
Far away, the Director reviewed the session transcript.
"She didn't destabilize," an aide said. "In fact, her stress markers lowered when he was nearby."
The Director tapped the table thoughtfully.
"So proximity strengthens stability."
"Yes."
The aide hesitated.
"That complicates isolation strategies."
The Director's smile returned—thin, deliberate.
"Then we won't isolate him," she said.
"We'll expand him."
That night, Rafe stood beneath the Academy lights, Lyn's unfinished message still in his mind.
They had tried to see if attachment made him vulnerable.
Instead, they had discovered something worse.
Attachment made him stronger.
The Anchor felt different now.
Not heavier.
Supported.
If they intended to use proximity as leverage—
They would have to understand something fundamental.
Rafe did not hold the structure alone anymore.
And the more they tested what he cared about—
The more they would reinforce exactly what they feared.
Control had shifted again.
And the next move would not be subtle.