The drive was tense, silent. Fyn's tapping had concluded completely, and so did Saje's soft hums. Val didn't know what the silence meant, but the weight of it pressed against their chest like a physical hand. Surely the Council would understand. Putting Wren there, in that unstable condition, was a death sentence. Surely they would see that Val had only done what was necessary.

As they approached the shiny white and gold castle, Fyn quickly released the door locks. Val noticed the engine was still running, the magnetic-drive humming with potential energy.

"Are you not joining us for the nightly dinner, Fyn?" Val asked, trying to keep their voice light.

"My apologies, Heir Valode. I must return to complete the paperwork for this trip log. The Council expects these reports immediately. You know how they can be." Fyn offered a smile that didn't reach their eyes. As Val and Saje stepped out, the car was already moving, setting off into the setting sun.

On their exit, Val saw Fyn's finger resume its rhythmic taps against the wheel. Tap. Tap.

The Crucible was illuminated by the night lights, the Eternal Flame dressing the obsidian structure in divine, flickering gold.

Within the three thrones sat the Kassaj, prim in their robes.

"So..." Zhajul began, their voice heavy with the authority of the Light. "Any good news on our problem child?"

Lojmon cleared their throat. They stood in the shadows of the third pillar, their cloak and cover completely shielding their face.

"As expected, the Liorovaj has declined the Jefue aid. Reports of a malfunction with the specimen seem to be the documented reason, but we can conclude this would always be the result. However... in more interesting news," Lojmon paused, tapping a finger against their thigh. "Reports state that Heir Valode was responsible for 'calming' the subject. With a simple touch. No tools, no dampeners. Simply a touch."

Vaelor rose from their seat. The Fire Enforcer looked worse than usual; their skin was cracking like dried mud over magma. "What are you saying? The child stabilized the subject?" Vaelor gripped their silk handkerchief with such strength it began to smoke.

"As it appears... yes. However, it is merely theory," Lojmon concluded.

"Not a very good theory." Zhajul slumped back into their throne, taking a sip from a golden chalice. "We suspected the child of baring the waters with celestial favor. And now you say the child bears light? Not even the Northern Waters could save that thing! You all know we tried it." Their voice was heavy with annoyance.

"But..." Vaelor began, a desperate, manic excitement lighting up their eyes. "If there is even an inkling of truth there... the child could stabilize me. I'd be cured of this madness. Not even the sun could stop me... could stop us! Just think of the implications—"

"SILENCE!" Zhajul commanded, the flame in the center of the room flaring violet. "We have bigger issues. That child is dangerous, and we are sitting here debating if they are of the Light or the Waters. That child is nothing like us! They are a disease, just like those who came before. We need evidence. Just imagine it—one of them hiding among us. With the right evidence, the people will do the hard work for us."

Zhajul stood, their shadow stretching long across the floor, heavier now. "And the longer that darkened 'Vajava-in-waiting' holds the history, the sooner our work is ruined. Bring me plans for overtaking that damned glass kingdom. We shall have the world at our command for the ritual."

Val sat upon their silky smooth sheets, watching the clock with intense focus. The Low Eleven couldn't come fast enough.

01 // 54 Fade.

"Just one more Pulse," Val thought. The day was preparing its end.

The figure-8 clock on the wall pulsed. 01 // 54.

Then, the numbers dissolved. The top and bottom loops of the eight flashed in unison.

11 // 11. The Null.

For exactly twenty-two echoes—one single pulse—the palace security grid reset. The humming of the surveillance drones in the hallway died. The omnipresent solar-lights dimmed to a ghostly grey.

Val moved.

They moved with a grace that defied their broad shoulders, slipping through the room like smoke. Val pulled the heavy tapestry of the First Sun aside, revealing the narrow servant’s chute. It was tight, smelling of dust and old ozone, but it spit Val out exactly where they needed to be: The Bridge of Silence.

It was a narrow, glass-enclosed walkway connecting the Royal Quarters to the High Guard Barracks. It was a structural blind spot.

The lights buzzed back on just as Val landed softly on the floor. 01 // 00 Flare. A new day.

A figure was already waiting in the shadows of the support beams.

"You cut it close," a voice whispered. It wasn't the bark of a commander; it was the relieved sigh of a Yihen.

Gwen stepped into the moonlight. She had removed her helmet, her dark hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her face, usually composed and terrifyingly blank in public, looked raw. Her eyes scanned the hallway behind Val before settling on her sibling.

"Fyn drives slowly when they are fishing for information it seems," Val whispered, stepping forward.

Gwen closed the distance instantly, pulling Val into a fierce, desperate hug. Her gauntleted hands didn't pat Val’s back; they clutched at Val’s tunic, anchoring herself. For a moment, she wasn't the High Guard; she was just Gwen.

"I was so worried," Gwen breathed into Val’s neck. "When the report came in... Val, did they touch you? Did Fyn try to read you?"

"They tried," Val said, pulling back to look at her. "Saje stopped them. He used sound to block the scan."

Gwen let out a shaky breath, her thumbs brushing Val’s cheekbones. "Smart boy. I’ll keep him close." Her eyes searched Val’s face, filled with a heartbreaking mixture of love and fear. "Come here. Let me look at you."

She guided Val into the deepest shadow of the pillar. "Close your eyes, sweet one. Just breathe."

Val obeyed. This was their ritual. Val thought it was a medical scan to check for radiation. Gwen knew it was a jagged knife to the heart.

Gwen placed her bare hands on Val’s temples. Her fingers were calloused but gentle. A soft, white light pulsed from her palms—a sterile, surgical cold meant to numb the pain.

"Tell me," Gwen whispered, her voice trembling. "What happened in Khijan? The truth."

"The girl... Wren," Val whispered, eyes squeezed shut. "She was exploding. Plasma critical. I touched her, Gwen. I didn't burn. I felt... water. I felt a river inside me."

Gwen’s hands froze. A tear slipped down her cheek, illuminated by the white light of her magic.

"It felt right," Val continued, a smile touching their lips. "Gwen, I remembered it. Like I’ve done it before. I saved her."

"No," Gwen choked out. The light in her hands flared brighter, not with anger, but with panic. "Oh, Valode. No."

"Gwen, it’s true! I—"

"You didn't feel water." Gwen’s voice shook, but her magic was firm. She pressed harder, the white light diving into Val’s neural pathways. "You were dehydrated. The heat made you delirious. You stumbled, and the dampening cuffs reset on their own. That is what happened."

Val grimaced. A sharp pain spiked behind their eyes. The memory of the cool blue water began to bleed, covered by a thick, white fog.

"I... I stumbled?" Val slurred. They tried to fight it, to hold onto the river, but Gwen’s love was a heavy blanket.

"You stumbled," Gwen sobbed softly, forcing the lie into the mind she loved most in the world. I promised Tama, she thought. I promised I would keep the Council away from you. Even if I have to break you to do it. "You are not a coolant, Valode. You are just lucky. Please... do not look for that river. It drowns people."

Gwen pulled her hands away. The light faded.

Val blinked, swaying slightly. The clarity of Khijan was gone. Replaced by a fuzzy, grey recollection. Right. The heat. The cuffs reset.

"I’m tired, Gwen," Val whispered, leaning into her Yihen's touch. "Everything is fuzzy."

"I know," Gwen whispered, kissing Val’s forehead. "Go to the garden. Get some fresh air. It clears the fog."

"Will you come?"

"I can't." Gwen stepped back, her face a mask of tragedy. "I have to report to our Selu. I have to tell them you are safe. Run, Valode. Be safe."

Val didn't go back to their room. The "fog" felt wrong tonight. It felt artificial.

The West Wing Garden was silent. The night-blooming moss cast an eerie, bioluminescent blue glow over the overgrown ferns.

"I figured you'd show up," Saje’s voice came from the branches of the willow tree.

He was sitting up there, legs dangling, munching on a star-fruit. He looked down, and his chewing stopped. He saw the glazed, vacant look in Val’s eyes.

Saje dropped the fruit and hopped down. He walked over to Val, studying their face. "They got to you again, didn't they?"

Val shook their head, trying to clear the cobwebs. "I... I just came for some air. Saje, what happened today? My head feels... scrambled."

Saje hesitated. He heard a whisper in his ear—not from Val, but from the wind. They are asleep. Wake them up.

"Think hard, Val," Saje said gently. "Forget what you were told. What does your body remember?"

"I remember heat," Val murmured.

"Dig deeper," Saje urged. He leaned in, his voice dropping to a murmur. "It feels familiar, doesn't it? Like we've stood in a room like that before. You and me. Dealing with fires we didn't start."

Val looked at him. The amber in Saje’s eyes seemed to spin. A flash of déjà vu hit Val hard—a memory of a different life, a different fire.

"The water," Val gasped, the fog cracking. "I felt the water."

"That's it," Saje smiled, a sad, knowing smile. "Wren is Plasma. You are Hydration. You didn't stumble, Val. You performed Interflow. It’s chemistry the Council deleted from the books."

Val looked at their hands. The fog vanished. "The Council? But... the Stone knew. And... Gwen. She tried to take it from me." Val's head felt lighter with each epiphany, yet more confusion followed.

"Gwen is scared," Saje said, defending her surprisingly. "Fear makes Ide do terrible things to the ones they love."

Suddenly, the air in the garden dropped twenty degrees. The shadows under the willow tree didn't just get darker; they got heavier. They pooled together, rising up like oil.

Saje stepped in front of Val, reaching for his trowel. "Stay back."

The shadow coalesced into a flat, 2D silhouette. Ouhan.

The shadow-figure raised a hand. It reached out, not to strike, but to touch. The shadow-fingers brushed Val’s forehead.

Flash.

Val gasped. In an instant, they saw a vision: The Crystal Library of Khijan. The temperature rising. The glass beginning to weep. A temperature gauge reading 2552 Degrees—the melting point of history.

The vision ended. Words etched themselves into the dirt at Val’s feet.

THE LIBRARY BURNS AT THE NEXT LOW ELEVEN. COME ALONE. WE KNOW WHAT YOU ARE.

The shadow dissolved into mist.

Saje looked at the writing, then at the sky. "The Low Eleven. We have twenty-two Arks until midnight returns. Until Khijan melts."

"We can't just drive there," Val said, the urgency burning away the last of Gwen’s spell. "Fyn filed their logs. The transport is locked."

Saje kicked dirt over the message. "Who said anything about driving?"

He walked to the dry, cracked fountain in the center of the garden. He placed his hand on the rusted copper pipes. "The Old Ones are loud tonight," he muttered. "They say the way is open."

Saje closed his eyes and hummed. A low, resonant note that vibrated in Val’s teeth.

Groan.

The earth beneath the garden shifted. A section of the stone wall ground open, revealing a dark, damp tunnel that smelled of ozone and ancient water.

"The Sonic Rails," Val breathed. "I thought they were a myth."

"Myth is just history they can't control," Saje said, wiping sweat from his brow. "This will get us to the border in four Arks."

Val looked back at the palace. At the tower where Gwen was likely weeping.

"If we go," Val said softly, "we can't come back."

"We were never coming back," Saje said, offering a dirty hand. "Not really. Ready to go for a ride?"

Val took his hand. It felt warm. It felt real.

"Let's go save a library."

They stepped into the darkness. Above them, in the empty room, the clock ticked to 01 // 02 Flare. The heat was rising.