The city pretends to reset after disaster.
It's almost impressive.
By morning, Meridian Tower is trending for "structural irregularities." News anchors smile like nothing tried to crawl out of the foundation of reality twelve hours ago.
Gas leak.
Electrical anomaly.
Minor tremor.
That's the official narrative.
The Veil loves bureaucracy.
But beneath that polished lie, something is moving.
And this time?
It isn't ancient.
It's human.
—
I don't sleep.
Not after visions like that.
The unveiled world still clings to my thoughts. That version of me — calm, sovereign, unbothered by collateral damage.
Was that manipulation?
Or prophecy?
There's a difference.
I just don't know which one scares me more.
My phone vibrates.
Unknown number.
Again.
I answer without speaking.
A voice replies.
Smooth. Controlled. Cultured.
"You went downstairs."
I stop pacing.
"Who is this?"
"You were told not to interfere."
The voice isn't accusing.
It's amused.
"You were also told I don't follow instructions."
A quiet chuckle.
"Yes. That's what makes this fascinating."
My stomach tightens.
They're not guessing.
They know.
"You have exactly one hour," the voice continues, "to meet me before certain parties decide you're a liability."
"And if I decline?"
"You won't."
The line disconnects.
No location texted.
No address sent.
Just confidence.
I hate confidence when it isn't mine.
—
Exactly forty minutes later, I'm standing outside the upper-level restaurant of Meridian Tower.
Yes.
That Meridian Tower.
Closed to the public today.
Except apparently not.
Security lets me through without a word.
That's not a good sign.
The elevator ride up feels shorter than the one down last night.
But heavier.
The doors open into quiet luxury.
Glass walls.
City skyline stretching endlessly.
A man stands near the window, hands clasped behind his back.
Perfectly tailored suit.
Silver streak at his temple.
Mid-forties.
Controlled posture.
He doesn't turn when I step out.
"I was wondering if you'd be reckless enough to come."
"I was wondering if you'd be arrogant enough to assume I wouldn't."
He smiles faintly at the glass reflection.
"Good. You're sharp."
He turns.
Eyes steady.
Calculating.
Not a drop of magic radiates from him.
And yet—
The air feels structured around him.
Organized.
Like he belongs at the center of systems.
"Name," I demand.
"Lucien Vale."
The name lands.
Not because I recognize it.
Because something in the chamber last night shifted when the entity mentioned origin.
And now this man says his name like a key.
"You knew what was under this building," I say.
"Yes."
"You built over it."
"Yes."
"Why?"
He gestures toward the skyline.
"Because power must be contained within power."
That's not an answer.
"That thing down there called me marked."
Lucien's eyes sharpen.
"Yes."
So calm.
So certain.
"You knew," I say quietly.
"I suspected."
"Since when?"
"Since the day you were born."
The world narrows.
"You've been watching me."
"Yes."
"How long?"
"Always."
The honesty isn't dramatic.
It's administrative.
Like he's discussing quarterly revenue.
"Why?" I ask.
"Because you are not an accident."
He walks toward the table.
Sits.
Pours two glasses of water.
I don't sit.
"You were born during the last thinning event," he continues. "The Veil weakened for six minutes and seventeen seconds."
That specific.
"During that window," he says, "something crossed."
Cold creeps into my spine.
"You're saying I'm possessed?"
"No."
He studies me carefully.
"I'm saying you were imprinted."
The word again.
Marked.
Fractured.
Imprinted.
"What does that mean?"
"It means the boundary between you and the Veil never fully closed."
I laugh softly.
"That's convenient mythology."
"It's measurable."
He taps the table.
A holographic projection flickers above it.
Energy fluctuations.
Location markers.
Three breach sites.
All with my proximity highlighted.
"You trigger instability," he says calmly.
"I stopped it."
"You delayed it."
The precision in his tone is surgical.
"You built a tower over the pit," I counter.
"Yes."
"To control it."
"To study it."
"To profit from it?"
He smiles.
"Everything has applications."
Corporate monster.
"You think I'm a tool," I say.
"I think you are leverage."
"And if I refuse?"
He finally leans back.
"Then others will acquire you."
Acquire.
There it is.
The hunters.
"Others?" I ask.
Lucien's gaze shifts slightly to the skyline.
"The Covenant."
The word feels heavy.
Old.
"They believe the Veil must remain intact at any cost."
"And you don't?"
"I believe evolution cannot be prevented."
Ah.
There it is.
The divide.
Ideology.
"Let me guess," I say. "They want me neutralized."
"Yes."
"Dead?"
"If necessary."
A beat of silence.
"And you?" I ask.
"I want you positioned."
I laugh once.
"You talk like I'm stock."
"You are rarer."
He stands again.
Walks closer.
Stops a measured distance away.
"You are not evil," he says evenly. "But you are unstable. And instability reshapes systems."
"You're gambling."
"Yes."
"On me."
"Yes."
"And if I become what was in that vision?"
His eyes do not flinch.
"Then I want to be on the winning side."
Cold.
Practical.
Honest.
"I'm not joining you."
"I didn't ask you to."
His gaze sharpens.
"I am offering information."
"What kind?"
"Who marked you."
Silence crashes between us.
That.
That is the leverage.
"You know?" I ask carefully.
"I know who performed the ritual during the thinning."
My pulse spikes.
"Say it."
Lucien studies me one last time.
"Your mother."
The air leaves my lungs.
"No."
"She was a Covenant scholar."
That hits harder.
"She believed the Veil was too rigid. That stagnation breeds collapse."
I shake my head.
"She would never—"
"She calculated."
Calculated.
Not emotional.
Not desperate.
Calculated.
"The ritual was not meant to unleash catastrophe," Lucien continues. "It was meant to create a bridge."
I remember the entity's words.
You returned.
Bridge.
Fracture.
"You're lying."
Lucien walks to the window again.
"If I were lying, you would feel it."
He's right.
I don't feel deception.
I feel structure.
"You were designed to survive thinning," he says quietly. "To stabilize it."
"Stabilize?" I snap. "That thing down there nearly tore the city apart."
"Because the Covenant interfered."
That stops me.
"What?"
"They attempted to purge the chamber after detecting activity. Their interference destabilized the entity."
The timeline clicks into place.
The alley creature.
The tower escalation.
Escalation.
"They pushed it," I say slowly.
"Yes."
"And it reacted."
"Yes."
"To me."
"Yes."
My jaw tightens.
"They're forcing the collapse."
"They fear what you represent."
"And what's that?"
Lucien turns.
"Choice."
—
The restaurant doors burst open.
Three figures step inside.
Black suits.
Silver insignia on their lapels.
Minimalist.
Disciplined.
I don't need introduction.
Covenant.
They move with synchronized precision.
One speaks.
"You are to come with us."
Lucien sighs softly.
"Timing is unfortunate."
I don't move.
"And if I don't?"
"You will be detained."
The air tightens.
Lucien does not intervene.
Of course he doesn't.
He's observing.
Testing.
The Covenant agents shift slightly.
Not aggressive.
Prepared.
"Your mark destabilizes the Veil," the lead agent says calmly. "We cannot permit further breaches."
"You caused the last one," I counter.
Their eyes flicker.
Just slightly.
"We attempted containment."
"You triggered hunger."
A pause.
Confirmation.
"Your existence accelerates thinning cycles," the agent continues. "We must isolate you."
Isolate.
Or dissect.
I glance at Lucien.
He gives the smallest nod.
He wants to see what I do.
Fine.
The agent steps closer.
I feel it.
Their magic.
Tight.
Restrictive.
Engineered to suppress.
They lunge.
I move faster.
Magic flares instinctively.
But I don't unleash it wildly.
I remember the chamber.
I compress it.
Channel it inward.
Precision over power.
The first agent's suppression field shatters.
Second agent fires a binding glyph.
It wraps around my arm—
And dissolves.
The third attempts a mental intrusion.
Big mistake.
The fracture inside me pushes back.
Hard.
The agent staggers.
Lucien watches silently.
Data collection.
Always.
The lead agent adjusts stance.
"You are confirming threat assessment."
"Good," I reply. "Upgrade it."
The glass behind them fractures.
Not from me.
From outside.
The skyline warps for a split second.
The Veil shudders.
All of us feel it.
Simultaneously.
Another thinning.
Already?
The Covenant agents look rattled.
Lucien looks intrigued.
I feel it in my bones.
The pit below pulsing.
It's responding to proximity.
To stress.
To conflict.
"You see?" Lucien says quietly. "Conflict accelerates."
The lead agent makes a decision.
"Retreat."
They move for the exit.
Cowards?
No.
Strategic.
They'll regroup.
With more.
Lucien approaches me slowly.
"You handled that well."
"You set that up."
"Yes."
Rage simmers.
"You wanted to test my reaction."
"I wanted to observe thresholds."
"You're playing with the city."
He tilts his head.
"So are you."
The Veil shudders again.
Stronger.
We both look out at the skyline.
A faint ripple passes across it.
Subtle.
But wrong.
"It's earlier than predicted," Lucien murmurs.
"What is?"
"The next convergence."
I narrow my eyes.
"Define convergence."
He meets my gaze.
"When the fracture inside you resonates with the origin beneath the tower."
"And what happens then?"
His answer is immediate.
"The Veil won't thin."
A pause.
"It will choose."
The word lingers.
Choose what?
Me?
The city?
Reality itself?
I step back.
"I'm not your experiment."
"No," Lucien agrees calmly.
"You're the variable."
Behind us, emergency alarms begin sounding faintly again.
Not public.
Internal.
Deep system alerts.
The pit is active.
Already.
Lucien checks his watch.
"You have approximately twelve hours before the Covenant returns with full sanction."
"And you?"
"I will not interfere."
Of course he won't.
He wants to see which side I align with.
Or if I create a third.
"Why tell me about my mother?" I ask.
"Because origin shapes trajectory."
"And if I reject that trajectory?"
He smiles slightly.
"Then you become unpredictable."
I start walking toward the elevator.
"And that scares you?"
"No," he says softly.
"It excites me."
—
Back on the street, the air feels charged.
The Covenant will escalate.
Lucien will watch.
The pit will pulse.
And somewhere in the middle—
Is me.
Bridge.
Catalyst.
Weapon.
Choice.
My phone buzzes again.
Different number.
Unknown.
I answer.
A familiar whisper replies.
"You spoke to the architect."
The entity.
"You're active already?" I mutter.
"The fracture widens."
"What do you want?"
"Not want."
It pauses.
"Warn."
Cold slides down my spine.
"About what?"
"The Covenant does not seek containment."
I stop walking.
"They seek severance."
Severance.
"As in?"
"They intend to cut the fracture from you."
My chest tightens.
"And what happens if they succeed?"
Silence.
Then:
"You die."
The call ends.
I stand in the middle of the city.
Neon lights.
Car horns.
Ordinary chaos.
But under it?
War.
Political.
Ancient.
Personal.
And for the first time—
I feel something new.
Not fear.
Not ego.
Not thrill.
Responsibility.
Not for the city.
Not yet.
For the choice.
Because if the Veil chooses—
It will choose based on me.
And I'm not sure what I'll decide.
Far beneath Meridian Tower, the pit pulses brighter.
And somewhere within the Covenant's hidden chambers—
A vote is cast.
Authorization granted.
Severance protocol initiated.
They're not coming to detain me next time.
They're coming to erase me.