Mae's stride prompted no resistance from the world; instead, it adjusted smoothly. The ground beneath her softened, with cracks closing as if sewn shut by unseen threads. The air grew denser, pressure changing until each breath was deliberate and controlled. Her chains moved across her skin, no longer reacting out of fear but forming into new routes. They were no longer restraints, but interfaces.
The figure's hand hovered inches from hers. Close enough that Mae could feel the pull, not physical but architectural. As if something were mapping her structure, measuring her capacity down to the smallest fracture in her will.
Lucien called her name, but his voice arrived too late, as if the space between them had suddenly stretched. She shifted her head just enough to see his chains pulling against the air, with white light bending in unnatural ways.
"I am not letting it take me," she said again. Her voice sounded different to her own ears, layered. The figure responded immediately.
'Clarify intent.'
Mae swallowed and then raised her hand. "I am not a component," she declared. "I am not a resource. I am not a deviation."
The fracture pulsed softly under her ribs, aligning with the gentle movement of light along the figure's chains. For a moment, she felt vulnerable, as if her entire internal structure had been unfolded and exposed.
'Designation pending,' the figure replied.
Sethis's grip tightened weakly around her wrist. His skin was too cold. "Mae," he said, his voice rough. "You are standing inside its system."
"I know," she said softly.
She approached, bringing her palm closer to the figure's hand. Although they didn't touch, their movements became synchronized.
Mae gasped as a rush of data swept over her, revealing not images or memories but the very structure beneath. She perceived the fracture as it truly was. A lattice, not a wound or a gift, just a dynamic framework extending through reality, branching endlessly and striving for balance through constant iteration.
She staggered but did not fall. The figure stiffened.
'Anomaly detected.'
Mae felt it too. Something was wrong, not with her.
With it.
"You can't analyze choice," she said, her voice steady despite the pounding in her skull. "You're designed to adjust outcomes, not to grasp intention."
The figure's chains pulsed brighter.
'Choice introduces instability.'
"Yes," Mae said. "That's the whole point."
The fracture surged, responding not with force but with expansion. The lattice widened, threads branching outward rather than collapsing inward. Mae felt the pull spread through the ground, the air, and the distant horizon, where the golden rift still burned faintly.
Lucien cried out as his chains reacted, white light flaring in sharp arcs. Ashar's flames stuttered, then steadied into a tighter burn. Riven's wings snapped wide as the air density around him shifted.
The Fallen had felt it too. They were being pulled into the same system. Sethis gasped sharply, clutching his chest. Mae felt it then, the shadows taken from him moving again. Not returning. Reconfiguring. They no longer answered him directly. They flowed through the lattice now, redistributed but not erased.
"Mae," he whispered. "They're not gone."
"I know," she replied.
The figure took a single step back. The ground did not follow.
'Integration unstable,' it said.
Mae stared into the blank white of its gaze. "You took Sethis because he was divided, aiming to optimize yourself. But you overlooked the importance of feedback."
'Feedback irrelevant.'
Mae shook her head. "Wrong, again." The fracture pulsed violently, threads snapping into new alignments. Mae felt something click into place inside her, a sudden clarity that hurt worse than any pain she had ever known.
"You're not correcting us," she said. "You are learning from us."
The figure's head tilted.
'Learning implies that there is a hierarchy.'
Mae laughed, breathless. "No. It suggests a connection. To existence." The words hit hard. The system around them faltered.
Light rippled across the battlefield, neither exploding nor collapsing but refracting. The air fractured into visible planes, layers of reality peeling back just enough to reveal the architecture beneath.
Lucien stared, wide-eyed. "Mae. What did you do?"
She didn't look at him. "I stopped letting it define the rules alone." The figure raised its hand again, this time more slowly.
'Convergence required.'
Mae felt the pull immediately, stronger now, more insistent. The lattice tightened around her chest, pressure building as if the fracture itself demanded resolution.
Sethis groaned softly. "It's trying to fold you into it."
Mae closed her eyes. For the first time since this started, she didn't fight the feeling. She embraced it. The lattice immediately responded, threads adjusting around her instead of through her. The pressure lessened, replaced by a new sensation. Space. Capacity.
She opened her eyes. The figure was no longer standing where it had been. It was closer, within her reach.
'Primary convergence possible,' it said. 'Consent required.'
Lucien swore. "Is it really asking now?" Mae's heart hammered.
Consent. The word resonated within her, sharp, threatening, and familiar. The orb had never revealed this to her. It had never shown her what the decision would entail, only that it would be significant.
She looked at Sethis.
He appeared pale, shadows flickering faintly at his feet, no longer extensions of his being but remnants of a greater system. He faced her gaze steadily, without flinching.
"If you do this," he said quietly, "you don't come back the same."
Mae nodded. "I understand." She glanced at each of them, noting that they all carried something different now, no longer broken, but changed.
The war had already changed them. She looked back at the figure. "You seek convergence," she said. "Then it will occur on my terms."
The figure did not move.
'Define terms.'
Mae inhaled slowly. "I am still autonomous," she said. "My will has not been taken away. It is integrated."
The lattice trembled.
'Autonomy reduces efficiency.'
"Then you will learn to accept inefficiency," Mae said. The fracture responded with a surge of agreement, threads glowing bright violet as they reshaped themselves. Mae sensed the system's strain and then its adaptation. The figure's chains dimmed slightly.
'Parameters adjusting.'
Mae experienced a sudden wave of vertigo as the system's internal shift occurred. It wasn't a collapse, but a rewriting. Sethis inhaled sharply. His shadows surged briefly before aligning into a new arrangement around him. They weren't entirely his, nor completely gone, but shared.
He looked up at Mae, eyes wide. "I can feel them again."
Mae smiled faintly. The figure stepped back another pace.
'Convergence incomplete.'
Mae's pulse slowed.
"Good," she said. "Then we are not done."
The lattice stabilized, and the light dimmed as the battlefield reasserted itself around them. Gravity returned to normal. Sound resumed. However, the system had altered. The figure remained still, neither moving forward nor backward.
'Next iteration required.'
Mae sensed the fracture stabilize, quiet yet alert. "When?" she inquired. The figure tilted its head once more.
'Soon.'
The ground beneath it began to dissolve, pale light drawing inward as the figure folded back into the lattice. In seconds, it was gone, leaving only faint distortions in the air where it had stood.
Silence fell, and Mae exhaled shakily. Lucien covered the distance between them quickly, gripping her shoulders tightly. "Don't ever do that again," he said.
She met his gaze. "I can't promise that."
Sethis pushed himself upright slowly. "You changed the system."
Mae nodded. "And it changed us back."
Ashar looked toward the horizon, where the gold rift flickered weakly. "That wasn't the end."
"No," Mae said softly. "It's only a break for now." The fracture throbbed once under her skin, still waiting.