The city did not celebrate.
There were no cheers, no alarms, no sudden rush of people into the streets. Drift absorbed the event the same way it absorbed everything else—quietly, carefully, as if pretending nothing important had happened.
That, Eris realized, was how it stayed alive.
He lay on a narrow cot in a dim room carved into the side of a building that refused straight lines. The walls curved subtly, making the space feel larger than it should have been. Soft light pulsed in slow rhythm overhead.
Kaelion stood near the doorway, speaking in low tones with the city's gatekeeper—the man who had introduced Drift.
"You felt it too," the man said. "The Arbiter wasn't just repelled. It was denied."
Kaelion nodded. "Which means escalation."
The man sighed. "Then Drift can't keep him long."
Eris sat up. "I can hear you."
Both men turned.
The gatekeeper studied Eris closely. "Good. Then hear this clearly. What you did tonight will echo."
Eris swung his legs over the edge of the cot. "I didn't mean to endanger your city."
"I know," the man replied. "Which is why you must leave."
Kaelion didn't argue.
That worried Eris more than the Arbiter had.
"When?" Eris asked.
"Before dawn," Kaelion said. "The window of irrelevance is closing."
Eris exhaled slowly. "Figures."
The gatekeeper folded his arms. "There is one thing you should know before you go."
He gestured toward Eris's chest.
"The Trace inside you—it's changing. It's no longer just observing."
Eris frowned. "Then what is it doing?"
"Learning how to fail," the man said.
Silence followed.
Kaelion's voice was steady. "That makes you dangerous."
"And necessary," the gatekeeper added. "Which is why they'll try to isolate you."
Eris stood. "Then we keep moving."
Kaelion smiled faintly. "You're learning."
They left Drift under a sky that didn't quite match the time of night. The city didn't close behind them—it simply lost interest, fading from relevance as the land reshaped itself.
Once they were far enough away, Kaelion stopped.
"There's something you should understand," he said. "What you're doing isn't power in the usual sense."
Eris looked at him. "Then what is it?"
Kaelion chose his words carefully.
"You are becoming… uneditable."
Eris swallowed. "Is that bad?"
Kaelion met his gaze.
"It means the story can't be fixed around you anymore."
The ground ahead trembled—not violently, but with anticipation.
The path was narrowing.
Not because of obstacles…
…but because the world was running out of ways to avoid him.