She had warned him without warning.
That was the way of the Order.
Maya stood alone now, on the same rooftop where she'd shattered him.
The mask hung loosely in her hand, its red surface gleaming under the sick light of Metronova's artificial moon.
She hated the mask.
Not because it hid her.
Because it fit.
Maya had worn many faces.
Daughter. Prodigy. Traitor.
And now this one — the face the Order demanded when it needed a sword that smiled.
But the cracks were spreading.
She had meant to test Aarav.
She hadn't meant to care.
She remembered his laugh in the garden behind the library, the way he'd held his notebook like a shield.
She remembered how his hands had shaken when he gave her the card — not from fear, but from conscience.
That was what scared her most.
He still had one.
She hadn't had hers in years.
Maya's recruitment had been no accident.
She'd been chosen young — like Aarav — but had embraced the darkness quickly.
She remembered her first act of obedience: turning in a friend who was trying to escape.
That friend had disappeared.
Her reward had been a key.
Not silver.
Black.
It opened every locked door — except the ones inside her.
She stared at the mask.
She had worn it for so long, sometimes she forgot where it ended and she began.
But then came Aarav.
He was a mirror she hadn't asked for.
And now the reflection was dangerous.
The Order thought they were shaping him.
But Maya had seen the truth in his eyes on that rooftop — he was becoming something they didn't understand.
Something they might not control.
She didn't know if that made him a threat… Or hope.
She slipped the mask back on.
Tomorrow, they would meet again.
And when they did, she would have to choose:
Protect him.
Or destroy him before the Order did.
And the worst part?
She didn't know which one she'd pick.