Hold it."
Seara's voice was steady.
Grounded.
Like an anchor in something he still didn't fully understand.
He kept his eyes closed.
Breathing slow.
Even.
The space around him was… fragile.
Not broken.
Not chaotic.
But delicate.
Like a surface of water that could ripple at the slightest disturbance.
And he was the disturbance.
He could feel it now.
Clearly.
Not just the threads—
But himself.
Every thought.
Every shift in attention.
Every small instinct to reach—
It pushed against that invisible layer.
So he stayed still.
And for a moment—
Everything held.
"…Good," Seara said quietly.
He exhaled slowly.
But didn't open his eyes.
Didn't move.
Because now he understood something important.
The moment he relaxed too much—
The moment he forgot—
It would slip.
"Alright," Seara said after a few seconds.
"You can open your eyes."
He did.
The room looked the same.
Dusty.
Quiet.
Abandoned.
But now—
It didn't feel overwhelming anymore.
Still dense.
Still different.
But manageable.
"…That's new," he muttered.
Seara tilted her head slightly.
"What is?"
"I'm not… drowning in it anymore."
A small pause.
Then she nodded.
"That means you're learning."
The words were simple.
But they carried weight.
Because for the first time—
This didn't feel completely out of his control.
"Don't get comfortable," she added.
Of course.
"Because that was the easy part."
He let out a quiet breath.
"Figured."
Seara glanced toward the door.
"…We're going outside."
His expression tightened slightly.
"That doesn't sound like the easy part."
"It's not."
A brief silence.
Then—
He nodded.
"Alright."
Because again—
He didn't really have a choice.
They stepped out into the corridor.
And instantly—
He felt it.
Stronger than before.
Not overwhelming—
But active.
The air wasn't calm here.
It was unsettled.
Small distortions flickered in and out.
Not stable.
Not smooth.
Like something was still… adjusting.
His chest tightened slightly.
Backlash…
Seara noticed immediately.
"Don't react," she said.
"I'm not—"
"You are."
He clenched his jaw slightly.
Right.
Intent.
He exhaled slowly.
Forced himself to steady.
The distortions didn't go away.
But they didn't spike either.
They stayed…
Unstable.
But distant.
"…Good," Seara said.
Then she started walking.
He followed.
The school felt different now.
Not physically.
But beneath that—
There was movement.
Subtle shifts in the air.
A flicker near the ceiling.
A faint pull near the lockers.
The same place from earlier.
His steps slowed slightly.
This is where it happened…
The memory hit instantly.
The threads.
The snap.
The distortion.
His chest tightened.
The air reacted.
Just slightly—
But enough.
A ripple passed through the space.
Not as violent as before.
But noticeable.
"Stop."
Seara's voice cut in immediately.
He froze.
"…I didn't do anything."
"You thought about it."
That was enough.
He exhaled sharply.
Right.
Intent.
"Focus," she said.
"On what?"
"On not focusing."
That was—
Annoying.
But he understood what she meant.
He let his gaze soften.
Not locking onto anything.
Not chasing any movement.
And slowly—
The ripple faded.
The air steadied.
Not fully.
But enough.
"…There," Seara said.
A small nod.
"That's how you stop it from getting worse."
He ran a hand through his hair.
"This is… insane."
"No," she replied calmly.
"This is normal."
He let out a short, breathless laugh.
"Right. Of course it is."
But she didn't react.
Because to her—
It probably was.
They reached the end of the corridor.
Near the stairs.
A few students passed by.
Talking.
Laughing.
Completely unaware.
He watched them for a moment.
And something clicked.
"…They can't feel it at all, can they?"
Seara glanced at him.
"No."
"Not even a little?"
She shook her head.
"Then why can I?"
That question lingered.
He had asked it before.
But this time—
It felt heavier.
More real.
Seara didn't answer immediately.
Instead—
She watched him.
Carefully.
As if deciding something.
"…Because you noticed it," she said finally.
He frowned slightly.
"That's not really an answer."
"It is."
She turned slightly, leaning against the wall.
"Most people live their entire lives without ever questioning what they feel."
Her voice was calm.
Measured.
"They ignore the gaps. The inconsistencies. The things that don't quite make sense."
He listened.
Because this—
Felt like something important.
"But you didn't," she continued.
"You stopped."
"You paid attention."
"And once you did—"
A small pause.
"You couldn't unnotice it."
Silence settled between them.
That… made sense.
More than he expected.
"…So this is just because I paid attention?" he asked.
"Partly."
That word again.
Not the full answer.
"And the rest?" he pressed.
Seara's gaze shifted slightly.
For the first time—
There was hesitation.
"…The rest," she said slowly,
"Is something we'll deal with later."
Not now.
He exhaled quietly.
Of course.
Before he could say anything else—
A sudden sound echoed from downstairs.
A loud crash.
Metal hitting metal.
Followed by voices.
Shouting.
Both of them turned instantly.
The air shifted.
Hard.
This wasn't subtle.
This wasn't faint.
This was—
Wrong.
A strong distortion surged upward from below.
Unstable.
Violent.
His chest tightened.
His instincts reacted instantly.
Something's happening—
"Don't move."
Seara's voice cut in sharply.
But it was already too late.
His focus had locked onto it.
That same pull—
Stronger than ever—
Dragged his awareness toward the source.
The threads below—
They weren't flowing.
They were breaking.
His breath hitched.
"Seara—"
"I said don't—"
A sudden surge hit him.
And this time—
He couldn't stop it.
The world twisted—
Again.
But harsher.
More unstable.
And somewhere below—
Something snapped.