Morning came on trembling legs.
Cael stepped into the academy courtyard, and the world was already in motion—buzzing like a hive struck too hard.
Whispers tangled in the wind.
"Did you hear? Leron Fael collapsed last night."
"Poisoned?"
"Someone said it was a curse—his skin was covered in glyph burns."
"Or maybe it was the training. He's been pushing too hard."
Cael stood still among the noise, hands folded behind his back. His gaze wandered across the crowd, noting the way students looked over their shoulders now, conversations clipped and frantic.
"Is this fate's way of retaliating?"
He didn't push Leron too hard. Just nudged a few strands. Slipped in a little stress. Tilted a few expectations. Let the weight of his forged potential crush him.
But still—Leron shouldn't have broken that easily.
The system pinged.
[Thread Field Stability: 73%]
A chill scraped down Cael's spine.
"This world is becoming brittle," he thought. "Like parchment soaked too long."
Cael's name echoed down the corridor like a sentence.
"Cael Ardyn. Instructor Velmire will see you."
He expected it.
The office was cold stone and colder silence. Instructor Velmire sat behind her desk, fingers steepled, eyes unreadable.
"You've trained with Leron Fael before, haven't you?"
Cael offered a polite smile. "Yes, ma'am. Once or twice. He always seemed sharp. Committed."
"Hm."
She didn't blink.
"He's withdrawn from deployment," she said. "An unexpected loss."
"I hadn't heard," Cael lied smoothly. "Is he alright?"
"He'll survive. But not well enough to fight. Strange timing, wouldn't you say?"
A flicker of tension passed between them.
The system pulsed behind Cael's vision.
System Choice Available:
Interfere with Velmire's Thread
Cost: 8 System Points (Severe Emotional Drain)
Plant Forged Evaluation Scrolls
Cost: 3 System Points (Moderate Risk)
Do Nothing
Risk: 42% Exposure Rate
Cael exhaled slowly.
"No… not yet. I won't gamble everything on her thread. There's a cleaner way."
That night, silence wrapped the academy like gauze.
Cael moved through the halls cloaked in shimmer-spell magic, his breath slow and shallow. The charm at his wrist—a minor illusion talisman stolen from a lazy third-year—held.
He slipped into the faculty records chamber. The lock opened with a quiet click from a spell of memory resonance—Velmire had touched it yesterday.
Inside, the air smelled of ink and old parchment.
The scrolls were lined like soldiers. Deployment recommendations, evaluations, notes on skill, heritage, temperament.
Cael found the one he needed:
Astor, Cael – Moderate-High Threat Evaluation. Stable. Loyal. Fit for frontline scouting.
He replaced it.
Dorne, Elias – High Instinct. Reckless. Excellent for diversion squads. Loyal to a fault.
He rolled the new scroll with surgical precision and slid it back into the drawer.
Then he paused.
And signed it with Velmire's wax seal—copied from her office the day before.
The forgery was perfect.
The chamber was dead silent as Cael pressed the seal into the warm wax. His hand didn't tremble—not anymore. Not even as the last of the illusion charm buzzed against his skin, signaling its limited time was ending.
The scroll was in place. The signature matched. The fate of another was rewritten.
A breath. Then—
System Prompt:
Initiate a minor rewrite to implant memory recognition in Instructor Velmire?
Cost: 1 Core Sentimental Tie – 'Mother's Lullaby'
He hesitated—but only for a second.
Confirm.
The system pulsed. A strange coldness settled in his chest as the cost was taken.
Later, as he returned to his room, the silence pressed on him differently.
He tried to hum something—an old tune. Something that used to comfort him in his earliest nightmares.
Nothing came.
He couldn't even remember if it was real or imagined.
"Something is gone. I just don't know what."
In the system's interface, Elias Dorne's thread shimmered like molten gold—growing stronger. Cael watched the trajectory shift:
Squad role: diverted.
Assignment: frontline decoy team.
Risk: high.
[Stability: 89%]
The rewrite was holding. For now.
But even as the system recalibrated, his own thread blinked at the edge of the interface. Faint red. No longer fully attached—but not entirely removed.
Like a ghost hand clinging to a dying fire.
Then—
Phantom Hook Detected – External Fate Intervention Suspected.
⚠ Unknown Symbol Attached
An alien glyph flickered beside his name—jagged, circular, shifting. It wasn't from the system.
Cael froze.
That mark—he'd never seen it before. Not in any rewrite. Not in any prophecy log.
He reached to scan it.
ACCESS DENIED. THREAD LOCKED BY FOREIGN ENTITY.
A chill ran up his spine. Not fear. Not confusion.
Recognition.
Something—or someone—else was playing the game.
He didn't wait. He shut the system down completely, dismissed the floating interface, and drew the curtains over his mind. Darkness was easier than answers that didn't come.
Tension with Elias
It didn't take long.
By noon the next day, Elias Dorne cornered him in the training yard.
The taller cadet's eyes burned with confusion and suspicion. "You volunteered me?"
Cael blinked, feigning surprise with a quiet shake of his head. "No, Elias. You were recommended. Your skill rating's been rising for weeks. Velmire must've seen your reports."
Elias snorted, pacing. "Don't give me that. You were on the list. Now you're not."
Cael didn't flinch. "You want the glory, don't you?"
That made Elias pause.
Cael stepped forward, lowering his voice. "This is your chance. If you survive the vanguard squad, you'll be untouchable. No more waiting behind noble sons or academy favorites. You'll make captain by next year."
Elias hesitated.
Then his shoulders straightened. His anger dimmed, overtaken by the spark of pride. "Yeah," he muttered. "Yeah, maybe."
But his eyes lingered too long. Watching Cael. Weighing him.
Flattered, but suspicious.
Cael didn't care. Let him wonder. So long as he marched when ordered.
The Roster Reposted
Two days later, the new Battle Deployment Roster was posted on the central academy board.
Crowds gathered. Murmurs rose.
Names glowed faintly in the system's periphery. Cael stood off to the side, watching—not reading.
He didn't need to.
He already knew.
Eltros, Leon – Vanguard Squad.Dorne, Elias – Vanguard Scout.Astor, Cael – Reassigned: Logistics and Command Support.
His name—off the list.
A quiet surge ran through him. Not joy. Not satisfaction.
Something colder. Duller.
Relief, maybe.
He didn't smile.
He couldn't remember how it felt.
System Prompt:
You have escaped the front line…but not the story.
He turned from the roster and walked away, shadow trailing behind him like a second fate.