Eryndor did not report the body.
By morning, the story had already begun to take shape as a mishap, a failure, something simple and believable. He said nothing to correct it. By midday, the body had vanished from the records, and by night, it was gone entirely.
The earth was softer than he expected. Eryndor stood alone at the edge of a quiet stretch beyond the city, the soil disturbed at his feet. The air was still and empty of witnesses. A raven croaked somewhere in the distance, then the sound faded into nothing.
He looked down at the place where Matt now lay buried. There should have been something waiting for him there, guilt, doubt, even relief, but there was nothing. Only a steady, cold awareness that it had happened.
He flexed his hand, watching for any sign of change, but nothing answered. Still, that did not mean it was gone.
Eryndor turned away from the grave without another glance.
By the next day, his focus had shifted. The lab carried on as usual, its low hum and sterile glow didn't change, but he no longer felt at its center. Everything moved around him, distant and almost irrelevant, while his attention turned inward. At the edges of the room, the shadows seemed heavier, lingering longer than they should, and he found himself watching them without knowing why.
Kael did not return to the lab. There was no message and no explanation. At first, no one noticed, but by the second day it felt deliberate, and by the third it was impossible to ignore. Eryndor noticed immediately, yet he did not ask. Absence had a weight of its own.
Ashwood was silent when she returned. Kael moved through the outer corridors more slowly than usual, her thoughts guarded and her expression unreadable. The walls felt closer than she remembered, as though the city itself were listening.
The elders' command remained clear. Find him. Not observe, not report, but find him.
She had not done so, not because she could not, but because she chose not to.
When she entered the chamber, they were already waiting.
"You've delayed again," the eldest said.
"I have not completed the task," Kael replied.
"Why?" another elder asked.
"Because the situation is no longer what you believe."
A faint shift moved through the chamber.
"You were sent to understand it," one of them said.
"And I do," Kael answered. "More than you expected."
"Then explain."
"The human is not ordinary," she said. "He is something else."
"That changes nothing," the eldest replied.
"It changes everything."
"You are overestimating him."
"You are underestimating what he survived."
Silence followed that.
"You're attached," another voice said.
"That is irrelevant," Kael replied calmly.
"It is not irrelevant," the eldest said. "You were given a directive."
"And I will complete it," she said. "But not the way you intended."
The air in the chamber seemed to tighten.
"You will proceed as instructed."
Kael held his gaze but said nothing.
"Leave."
She turned and walked out, and this time the silence she left behind did not feel empty. It felt as though it were watching.
Back in Amalos, Eryndor remained alone. Night settled slowly over the room as shadows stretched across the walls. He felt it again, that faint pulse beneath his skin. At first it was steady, but then it shifted into something else, a flicker that felt alive, deliberate.
Eryndor rose slowly. For a moment, the room felt wrong, as if it were adjusting to him in ways he could not understand. Something moved at the edge of his vision, and when he turned, there was nothing there, yet the chill remained.
Then, for a brief instant, the darkness deepened unnaturally, not like the absence of light, but as though something had passed through it.
Eryndor froze.
Just as quickly, it was gone. The room returned to its quiet stillness, but the unease lingered. A faint whisper brushed against his mind, too distant to understand, yet impossible to ignore.
That night, Kael returned to the city but did not enter the lab. Instead, she stopped across the street and watched the building. One section remained lit, his.
She felt it immediately. It was not like the others. It was quieter, but deeper, and something about it sent a faint, unfamiliar chill along her spine.
She knew what this could become because she had seen it before, and yet she did not leave.
Inside, Eryndor stood alone, the dim light reflecting faintly around him as he looked at his reflection. For a moment, there was nothing unusual, just his own tired expression staring back at him. Then something changed. The reflection moved, but he did not. It tilted its head slightly, studying him with a stillness that did not belong to any mirror. Eryndor's breath caught as a cold weight settled in his chest. Slowly, the thing in the glass smiled, not like a reflection, not like a trick of light, but with clear intent. He stumbled back, his pulse rising sharply, but the image did not follow. It only watched him, calm and patient, as if it had always been there.
Outside, Kael's head turned sharply toward the building. She felt it clearly now, stronger than before and no longer distant or uncertain. Something had gone wrong, something far beyond what the elders understood. The air around her seemed to tighten as instinct took over, warning her that whatever was happening inside was no longer contained.
Back in the lab, the lights flickered once, then again, before plunging the room into darkness. In that brief moment before everything disappeared, Eryndor understood one thing with terrifying clarity.
He was no longer alone.