The first scream came from behind them.
It was sharp, sudden, and raw enough to cut through the steady hum of the Gate. Everyone froze at once, bodies pivoting toward the sound.
A young woman—Mei Linhua—had collapsed to her knees near the edge of the path, fingers clawing at her forearm. Veins stood out dark and raised beneath her skin, pulsing as though something alive were moving underneath.
"I didn't—" she gasped. "I didn't touch anything—"
Her scream broke into a sob as light burst from her arm.
It wasn't fire. It wasn't lightning. It was something thinner, sharper—lines of pale energy tracing themselves across her skin in jagged patterns, like a sigil being carved from the inside out.
Several people backed away instinctively.
"What's happening to her?" someone shouted.
"No one touch her," Jonah said immediately, voice steady but tight. "Give her space."
Caelum moved forward anyway.
Not quickly. Not dramatically. Just enough to be there.
Mei's breath hitched, eyes rolling back as the light intensified. The air around her warped, shimmering faintly, and for a heartbeat Caelum thought the space itself might tear.
Then—snap.
The light condensed, folding inward until it vanished beneath her skin. The sigils burned once more, then faded to faint scars.
Mei collapsed forward, shaking.
Silence followed.
Slowly, cautiously, people crept closer.
"She's alive," Élise said, relief clear in her voice as she knelt beside Mei and checked her breathing. "Unconscious, but alive."
A murmur rippled through the group—fear, confusion, disbelief.
"That wasn't an attack," Li Xueyan said quietly from the edge of the circle. "That came from her."
Aarav swallowed. "You mean… that was like what happened to me?"
"Similar," Li replied. "Not the same."
Caelum looked down at Mei, noting the faint residual glow along her arm, the way the grass beneath her had darkened slightly, as though scorched by something unseen.
A word surfaced in his mind without invitation.
*Binding.*
---
It didn't take long for the next one.
Or the one after that.
They hadn't walked another hundred steps before a man cried out in shock as a translucent brand flared across his chest, forming a symbol that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Another dropped to his knees laughing hysterically as shadow pooled unnaturally around his feet, clinging like ink.
Panic spread faster this time.
"What's happening to us?"
"This isn't normal—this isn't human—"
"I didn't agree to this!"
A woman tried to run.
The ground buckled beneath her feet, pitching her forward as if rejecting the motion. She fell hard, breath knocked from her lungs.
Caelum felt it then—more clearly than before.
A pressure. Not on him, but *around* him. Like the world tightening invisible strings, nudging events back into alignment.
He looked at his hands.
Nothing.
No light. No sigils. No answering force.
Just skin.
---
Jonah raised his voice, sharp and commanding now.
"Everyone stop moving!" he barked. "You—yes, you with the shadows—step back. Slowly. No sudden movements."
The man obeyed, trembling.
Jonah turned, scanning faces. "Whatever this is, it's happening to individuals, not all at once. That means panic makes it worse. Stay still. Breathe."
"How do you know?" Rakesh demanded, eyes wild. "You don't know anything!"
Jonah met his gaze evenly. "No. But I know chaos when I see it."
For a moment, it looked like Rakesh might lunge.
The air tightened.
Then Caelum stepped between them.
Not intentionally. He simply shifted his weight, adjusting position to keep both men in view.
The tension eased, just slightly—like a knot loosening.
Rakesh scoffed and turned away.
Jonah exhaled slowly, eyes flicking to Caelum again.
---
They regrouped near a wide stone platform, spacing out as best they could. Some sat. Some paced. Some stared at their own hands as though expecting them to betray them next.
Mei Linhua stirred with a groan.
Élise was at her side immediately. "Easy," she said softly. "You're safe."
Mei blinked, unfocused. "I—" She swallowed, eyes widening as memory returned. "It burned. Like something was… carving me."
"Do you feel it now?" Élise asked.
Mei hesitated, then nodded slowly. "Yes. But it's… quiet."
She lifted her arm.
Faint, jagged markings traced her forearm, barely visible unless the light caught them just right.
"I can feel something when I concentrate," Mei continued, voice trembling. "Like… like threads. But they don't listen to me."
Li Xueyan leaned closer, studying the markings. "They will," she said. "Eventually."
Mei looked at her in horror. "How can you be sure?"
"Because they didn't kill you," Li replied simply. "That means they intend to be used."
That did nothing to calm Mei.
---
Across the platform, Aarav stared at his hands again.
He closed his eyes, inhaled slowly, and *pulled*.
The invisible lines snapped into existence at once, sharper than before, humming faintly as they stretched between his fingers and the surrounding space. The sensation made his teeth ache.
He yelped and released them instantly, clutching his wrists as pain lanced up his arms.
"Don't," Caelum said gently, appearing beside him.
"I needed to know," Aarav muttered through clenched teeth. "I needed to know if I imagined it."
Caelum shook his head. "You didn't."
Aarav laughed weakly. "That's not comforting."
---
Takahiro sat alone, back straight, eyes closed.
The blade rested before him, embedded tip-first into the stone as if placed there deliberately. Its surface was perfectly still, reflecting nothing.
He hadn't touched it since the fight.
He could feel it regardless.
A presence at the edge of his awareness, patient and heavy.
When he finally opened his eyes, the world seemed to sharpen.
The symbols etched into the ruins around them stood out more clearly now—patterns of intent rather than language. His gaze lingered on one particular marking near the base of the platform.
It depicted a figure holding a blade.
The figure's mouth was closed.
Takahiro's breath caught.
So that's how it works, he thought.
---
The discoveries continued.
A man named Noah Carter realized he could hear faint whispers near broken Trial markers—echoes of something that had happened before. The voices unsettled him enough that he begged Jonah not to make him go near the ruins again.
Another climber found that her strength surged when she stood in sunlight pooled beneath floating debris, only to fade when she stepped away.
Every manifestation was different.
Every cost unclear.
Fear settled into something heavier now.
Understanding.
---
Samuel Crowe watched it all with a grim familiarity.
"This is the first claim," he said quietly, when the worst of the panic had burned itself out.
Jonah turned to him. "You've seen this before?"
"Not exactly this," Samuel replied. "But close enough."
He tapped his cane against the stone. "These are Bindings. Contracts, if you like. Between you and whatever rules this place."
"Rules don't carve people open," someone snapped.
Samuel met their gaze without flinching. "They do here."
Caelum listened carefully. "Why now?" he asked.
Samuel's eyes flicked to him, sharpening. "Because you crossed the threshold," he said. "And because this place doesn't let potential go unmeasured for long."
A subtle vibration rolled through the ground, as if in agreement.
---
Li Xueyan had been testing her reflection.
She found a smooth piece of stone and moved before it, sharp, precise. For a split second, her reflection lagged—just enough to confirm it hadn't been her imagination earlier.
She stilled.
The reflection copied her.
Once.
Perfectly.
Her stomach tightened.
"Once per day," she murmured, instinctively understanding. "That's the limit, isn't it?"
The reflection did not answer.
She stepped back, unsettled.
This wasn't power she could refine through repetition. This was something to be *spent*.
She hated that.
---
By the time the light in the sky subtly shifted again—marking another passage of time—the group had changed.
Not outwardly. Not yet.
But everyone stood a little differently now. Held themselves with new caution. New awareness.
Something had been taken from them.
Something else had been given.
Caelum remained unchanged.
He waited for it—for the burning, the carving, the moment when the world would reach into him and pull something out.
It never came.
No sigil appeared on his skin. No whisper curled at the edge of his hearing. No force answered when he tested the air, cautiously, experimentally.
Nothing.
He wasn't relieved.
He was… uneasy.
---
That unease deepened when the Gate pulsed again.
This time, the sound carried further, deeper—a resonance that vibrated through bone and memory alike. The ruins responded, faint lines glowing briefly before fading.
Samuel straightened. "It's aware now," he said.
"Of what?" Jonah asked.
Samuel's gaze swept the group, lingering briefly—*briefly*—on Caelum before moving on.
"Of who survived," he said.
No one slept that cycle.
They sat together, watched each other, and listened to the hum of a system that had finally begun to speak.
Not in words.
But in wounds.
And far away, the Gate waited, patient as ever, its purpose unchanged.
The Bindings had awakened.
And there would be no going back.