Hollow Square emptied faster than Evan expected.
Not because the danger was gone, but because people forgot it had ever been there.
Firefighters worked. Police cordoned off streets. Paramedics loaded the injured into ambulances. Cameras were shut off. Witnesses were redirected. Conversations shifted, sliding away from the impossible toward the familiar.
A gas explosion. Structural failure. Faulty maintenance.
Words that fit.
Words that closed doors.
Evan sat on the curb, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the dark stain on the pavement where his blood had dried. The pressure was quieter now, like a distant ache behind his eyes, but it had not left him. It pulsed gently, reminding him it was still there.
Watching.
Marcus stood nearby, speaking with a police officer, his voice calm and controlled. Luke paced back and forth, running both hands through his hair, muttering under his breath. Noah stood apart from them all, eyes fixed on the sky, as if expecting it to split open again.
Emily remained behind the barricade.
She had not moved closer since the pain had flared.
Neither had Evan.
The space between them felt deliberate now. Measured. Dangerous.
Evan stood slowly, every muscle protesting. The moment he straightened, the pressure stirred, then settled again, as if acknowledging the movement.
He turned toward Emily.
She noticed instantly.
Their eyes met across the distance.
Emily's hands were clenched tightly at her sides. Her face was pale, but her gaze did not waver. There was fear there. And something else Evan recognized too well.
Concern.
Not for herself.
For him.
Evan took one step forward.
The air rippled faintly around him.
Emily flinched.
Evan stopped immediately, raising his hands slightly, palms open.
"I won't come closer," he said.
His voice carried farther than he expected in the sudden lull between sirens.
Emily swallowed. "It hurts when I do."
Evan nodded. "I know."
That simple admission seemed to shake her more than denial would have.
She took a slow breath. "Is it always like that?"
"No," Evan said honestly. "It's worse when I'm… using it."
"Using what?" she asked.
Evan hesitated.
The pressure pulsed, sharp, as if reacting to the word.
"Myself," he said instead.
Emily's eyes glistened. "That's not an answer."
"It's the only one I have right now," Evan said.
She looked away briefly, then back at him. "You ran into a burning building," she said. "You stood under that thing in the sky. And now you're standing there pretending this is manageable."
Evan forced a small smile. "I'm good at pretending."
"I know," Emily said softly. "That's the problem."
Marcus approached them then, careful to stop well short of Evan.
"They're closing the area," he said. "We should leave before questions start getting more specific."
Luke joined them, arms folded tightly across his chest. "And before my brain has time to process what just happened."
Noah finally turned away from the sky. His expression was focused, sharp.
"Someone is cleaning this up," he said.
Marcus frowned. "The authorities?"
"No," Noah replied. "Something else."
Luke snorted. "Because of course there is."
Noah ignored him. "Witness memory degradation is already occurring. People are forgetting details. Timelines are compressing. The longer we stay, the more attention we draw."
Evan nodded. "Then we go," he said.
They moved carefully, staying within the cleared routes, avoiding crowds. No one stopped them. No one questioned them. It was as if the square itself had decided they were no longer relevant.
The walk back toward campus was quiet.
Too quiet.
Evan walked slightly ahead, the others trailing behind him. Emily kept her distance, matching his pace without closing the gap. Every instinct in Evan screamed to turn back, to reach for her, to say something that mattered.
He did not.
The pressure hummed, low and constant, as if approving his restraint.
They reached the edge of campus just as the sun began to rise. Pale light washed over the buildings, softening the sharp edges of the night.
Normality returned with brutal efficiency.
Students passed them, yawning, laughing, and complaining about early classes. None of them looked at Evan twice.
Luke let out a shaky breath. "I hate mornings now."
Marcus nodded. "That makes two of us."
They stopped near the boys' hostel.
"This is where we split," Marcus said. "For now."
Noah looked at Evan. "You need rest."
Evan shook his head. "Sleep triggers it."
"Then controlled rest," Noah corrected. "I'll work on that."
Luke pointed at Evan. "No spontaneous heroics."
Evan gave a faint smile. "No promises."
Luke grimaced. "I was afraid you'd say that."
Marcus turned to Emily. "We'll walk you back to the girls' hostel."
Emily hesitated, then nodded.
Before she turned away, she looked at Evan again.
"Don't disappear," she said quietly.
"I won't," Evan replied.
She studied his face for a moment longer, then turned and walked away with the others.
Evan watched until they were gone.
Only then did he let himself sag against the wall, the tension finally catching up with him.
The pressure stirred.
He closed his eyes.
Not now, he thought.
Please.
The hum subsided.
Evan opened his eyes and straightened.
Someone stood at the end of the path.
A man Evan did not recognize.
Tall. Neatly dressed. Hands clasped loosely behind his back.
He was smiling.
Evan's heart dropped.
The pressure spiked violently.
The man tilted his head slightly. "You're earlier than expected."
Evan scanned the area. No one else seemed to notice the man. Students passed him as if he were not there.
"Who are you?" Evan asked.
The man chuckled softly. "That's not the right question."
He took a step forward.
The pressure surged.
Evan clenched his fists, bracing himself.
The man stopped immediately.
"Ah," he said with interest. "So you've learned restraint."
"Answer the question," Evan said through gritted teeth.
The man smiled wider. "Names are complicated. But you can call me an observer."
Evan's heart pounded. "You were at Hollow Square."
"Yes," Observer replied.
"You caused it?" Evan asked.
The observer shook his head. "No. You did."
Anger flared hot and sudden. "People were going to die."
"And some did," the observer replied calmly. "Elsewhere."
Evan froze. "What does that mean?"
The observer stepped closer, careful to remain just outside the invisible boundary Evan now felt instinctively.
"When balance is corrected in one place," the observer said, "it shifts in another."
The pressure pulsed in agreement.
Evan's voice dropped. "You said alignment was restored."
"Temporarily," the observer replied. "You're a deviation, Evan. Deviations require monitoring."
Evan's blood ran cold. "You know my name."
"Of course I do," the observer said. "You're becoming difficult to ignore."
Evan swallowed. "What happens if I keep interfering?"
The observer considered him thoughtfully. "Escalation."
"And if I stop?" Evan asked.
The observer's smile faded slightly. "Then someone else will make the choice for you."
Silence stretched between them.
Evan thought of Emily. Standing behind the barricade. Afraid to step closer.
"You're lying," Evan said.
The observer's eyes gleamed. "About which part?"
Evan clenched his jaw. "All of it."
The observer laughed quietly. "Good. That means you haven't broken yet."
He stepped back.
"Rest," he said. "Learn. Control what you are becoming."
"And then," Evan demanded.
"And then," the observer said, beginning to fade, "we see how much imbalance you're willing to accept for the people you care about."
He vanished.
No sound.
No distortion.
Evan stood alone, heart racing.
The pressure settled into something new.
Not resistance.
Expectation.
Evan slowly sank onto the steps, staring at his trembling hands.
He thought of Emily again.
Of the pain that surged when she moved closer.
Of the distance he was being forced to keep.
A quiet, terrible realization took shape in his mind.
If loving her made the world push back harder…
Then choosing her would be the most dangerous act of all.
And somehow, Evan already knew.
He would still choose her.