The Order descended upon the city quietly this time.
No trumpets, no sigil banners — just white coats, masked faces, and the whisper of In Umbra boots across the damp pavement. They moved like surgeons over a corpse, efficient and wordless.
Magistra Severine Holt stood at the edge of the crater that had once been the containment ward. The air here still shimmered faintly, alive with afterimages that refused to fade. She could feel the hum beneath her feet — the residue of power too concentrated to be natural.
"Suspensum," she murmured, tapping her wrist sigil. "Confirmed breach."
The field agent beside her, a lean man in a black half-cloak, nodded. "Signs of interference by Kaine confirmed as well. Their energy patterns are distinct — intertwining but divergent."
"They escaped," Holt said flatly.
The agent hesitated. "It seems so, Magistra."
"Then we trace them," she said. "Every connection, every shadow they ever touched."
By dusk, the Order's network had begun pulling records from Jake Faust's old life — addresses, family, school files, anyone he'd spoken to in the past six months. The data streamed across transparent tablets in the candle-lit office of the House of Towers.
Holt studied the names scrolling down her screen:
Grandmother – Evelyn Faust (Missing).
Mira Solein – Classmate. Address: Westgate Residential District.
A faint mark glowed beside Mira's name — the algorithm's indicator for "possible arcane anomaly."
"Run a scan," Holt ordered. "I want her location verified and watched. Subtlety preferred — no contact yet."
The Umbra agent nodded. "Understood."
----
The following evening, under the pretext of a standard welfare check, two Ordo representatives arrived at the Solein residence — a modest three-story house tucked behind an overgrown garden.
The mother, Eira Solein, opened the door with a cautious smile. "You're from the city board?"
The younger agent, Drae, returned the smile. "Yes, ma'am. Routine post-incident verification. Your daughter, Mira, attends Ashwick High, correct?"
Eira nodded. "Yes. Why?"
"Just ensuring all students in the sector are accounted for."
From the hallway behind her, Mira appeared — barefoot, wearing an oversized sweater, her expression a mix of curiosity and fatigue. Her eyes caught the agents' attention instantly — faintly luminous, like moonlight reflecting off still water.
Drae hesitated, momentarily disarmed. He blinked, then cleared his throat. "May we come in?"
They sat in the living room while Eira poured tea.
Mira stayed near the window, half-listening. She'd been restless since the containment incident, plagued by strange dreams — whispers, mirrors, the feeling of someone calling her name from far away.
"Have you experienced any disturbances since the storm?" Drae asked gently. "Unusual sounds? Lights? Maybe… feelings that don't quite belong?"
Eira frowned. "No. Just the usual power outages."
Mira spoke softly, not turning. "I've had dreams."
Both agents looked at her.
She continued, voice distant: "Someone keeps falling. Every night, I hear the sound of water. And a rope."
The air shifted. Drae's sigil ring flickered once — involuntarily. Holt's training drilled into him instantly: containment protocol, non-alarm escalation.
He offered a smile. "That's normal after trauma, Miss Solein. The city's collective field has been unstable since—"
He stopped mid-sentence.
The lamp beside Mira pulsed faintly pink, then white. The temperature dropped three degrees. A mirror across the room fogged from the inside.
Eira gasped. "Mira?"
Mira looked down at her hands. Her fingertips glowed faintly — not fire, not light, but resonance. The mark of The Lovers was beginning to form beneath her skin: two circles overlapping, bleeding into one another.
Drae rose slowly. "We need to call the Magistra."
Mira stepped back, frightened. "What's happening to me?"
"Nothing dangerous," Drae said, lying automatically. "It's just… residual energy. You're safe."
Eira stood between them, protective. "You said this was routine—"
The older agent touched her shoulder, eyes soft with practised sympathy. "It is, ma'am. And we'll make sure she gets proper care. We just need to run a scan to verify the resonance origin."
Mira's breathing quickened. "You're with the Ordo, aren't you?"
The room went silent.
Drae didn't deny it.
Within the hour, the living room was lined with faint sigil threads, invisible to ordinary sight. Mira sat on the couch, pulse racing, as the Ordo's portable field device hummed quietly.
Holt herself arrived midway through the scan, her coat trailing the scent of rain and ash.
"Miss Solein," she said gently. "You were close to Jake Faust, weren't you?"
Mira nodded slowly. "We were friends."
"You felt… strange, after the explosion?"
Mira swallowed. "I felt like something inside me woke up. Like a second heartbeat that wasn't mine."
The scanner beeped. The air thickened; a faint shimmer rippled between Mira's chest and the sigil threads.
Drae looked at the readings. "Arcana response confirmed. Major resonance alignment: The Lovers."
Holt's eyes narrowed slightly. "Chain reaction."
Drae glanced up. "Ma'am?"
"He awakened her," Holt said. "When the Suspensum broke its seal, its energy bled through every tether connected to him. Friends, family, classmates… but she resonated strongest. The Lovers is the mirror to the Hanged One."
Eira stood frozen, hand over her mouth. "You're saying my daughter—?"
"She's not in danger," Holt said softly. "But she's not ordinary anymore."
Mira looked up, eyes wide and glassy. "Jake did this to me?"
Holt considered her for a long moment. "No," she said finally. "He called you. The Arcana only answered."
As the agents began sealing the sigil threads, Holt stepped to the window. Outside, rain was beginning again — the kind that carried static.
She watched the reflection of Mira in the glass. Behind the girl's outline, faint threads of pink and white light twined together, pulsing like veins through the air.
A resonance signature. A bond.
"The Lovers," Holt murmured. "Attachment born from imbalance. How poetic."
Behind her, Mira asked quietly, "What happens to me now?"
Holt turned, expression unreadable. "We'll monitor your condition. Ensure your safety."
She didn't add the rest: And if the resonance deepens, you will become a weapon or a warning.
As they left, the sigils flickered out one by one, leaving the house dim and silent again.
Mira sat by the window long after they were gone, watching the rain streak the glass.
Somewhere, faint and distant, she could almost hear the echo of a voice — familiar and broken — whispering her name.
"Mira…"
She closed her eyes, and the pulse beneath her skin answered.