The world after static was quiet.Too quiet.
Kayden sat on the curb outside the ruined café, rain soaking through his hoodie, hands trembling slightly. Around him, the chaos was muted — police tape, curious onlookers, and a dull hum from the shattered streetlights.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been staring at the reflection in a puddle near his shoes. The surface rippled with each raindrop, distorting his face. Every time it smoothed, he half-expected the other version to grin again.
It didn't.Not yet.
Seren was standing a few steps away, phone pressed to her ear, her expression unreadable. Her coat was torn at the shoulder, and streaks of static still flickered faintly along the fabric — like the afterimage of something unreal.
"...No, it wasn't a breach," she was saying quietly. "It was him."Pause."Yes. Confirmed. He manifested."
Her eyes flicked toward Kayden briefly before turning away again. "No containment. He stabilized on his own. You heard me — he stopped it."
She listened for a long moment. Rain drummed between them like a heartbeat."Understood. I'll bring him in."
The call ended. Seren exhaled slowly and walked toward him.
"You good?" she asked.
Kayden gave a half-laugh. "Define 'good.' I might've just caused a blackout and vaporized a nightmare with… what, telekinesis? Static? My inner Wi-Fi demon?"
"You discharged the veil's frequency," she said, almost impressed. "You shouldn't have been able to."
"Yeah, that's comforting," he muttered.
She crouched slightly, meeting his gaze. "Listen. Whatever happened in there — it wasn't random. You're what we call a Conduit."
He blinked. "Sounds fancy. What does that mean?"
"It means the veil didn't just look at you — it linked to you. You're resonating with its frequency, tapping into the static that separates thought from form."
He stared. "That's… a lot of words for 'you're screwed,' isn't it?"
Her lips quirked into a smile. "Something like that."
Kayden looked away, watching as two agents in grey coats began subtly redirecting civilians. Their movements were efficient, almost invisible. It wasn't police cleanup — it was a cover-up.
"Who are you people?" he asked finally.
Seren straightened. "We call ourselves the Veiled Eye. We monitor distortions, breaches, and consciousness events. We watch for those who… see too much."
Kayden raised an eyebrow. "Catchy. You got business cards too?"
"Only for the dead," she said dryly.
He chuckled despite himself. "You've got a hell of a recruitment pitch."
"You'll understand soon," she said. Then, softer, "You saved people today. That thing — it would've spread if it had crossed another surface. Whatever you did stopped it."
Kayden frowned. "You sound surprised."
"I am."
Rain softened to drizzle. The agents finished their work and disappeared into the crowd like ghosts. Seren turned toward the empty street.
"Come on," she said. "I'll take you to the facility. You need to be stabilized before the static overloads your nervous system."
Kayden stood, hesitating. "And if I say no?"
Seren glanced back at him, expression unreadable. "Then you'll start hearing them in your own voice. And next time you look in a mirror, it won't blink first."
That shut him up.
He followed.
—
They rode in silence. The city outside the car blurred into streaks of gray.
Kayden watched the raindrops slide down the window, each one catching faint traces of blue light before vanishing.
He didn't realize Seren was watching him until she spoke.
"Does it hurt?"
He looked up. "What?"
"When it happens. When the static comes through."
He thought for a moment. "Not exactly. It's like… my brain's trying to tune into a station that doesn't exist. Everything slows down, but I can hear what shouldn't have sound. It's like—"
"—the world is holding its breath?"
He blinked. "Yeah. Exactly."
Seren nodded slowly, almost to herself. "That's how it started for me too."
He studied her for a moment. There was something in her eyes — not fear, but familiarity. Like she'd been through the same storm and learned to stand still inside it.
Before he could ask, the car slowed.
They had reached a nondescript building on the city's edge — a tall structure of glass and steel that seemed ordinary until you looked too long. Then the angles stopped adding up.
A ripple ran through Kayden's reflection in the car window — for just a moment, it didn't match the motion of his real face.
Seren noticed too. "Don't look at it," she said quickly.
The reflection grinned faintly before fading.
Kayden exhaled shakily. "Yeah, noted."
They stepped out into the cold air. The building's door opened without a sound, revealing a stark, white corridor that hummed faintly with power.
As they walked in, Kayden caught glimpses of strange equipment, static monitors, screens displaying rippling mirror feeds. People moved quietly, efficiently — too many with bandages over one eye.
At the end of the hall stood a man in a black coat, silver hair tied back neatly, expression calm but sharp enough to cut glass.
"Agent Vale," he greeted. His voice was smooth, deep, precise. "And this must be the new variable."
"Director Hale," Seren said.
The man studied Kayden like he was reading an open book written in a language he already knew.
"So," Hale said softly. "You're the one who touched the veil and lived."
Kayden managed a nervous smile. "Yeah, sorry about that. Won't happen again."
Hale's lips twitched — not quite amusement, not quite disdain. "Oh, it will. The veil doesn't open by chance. It chose you, Mr. Hart."
Kayden froze. "Hart? My name's—"
"Not anymore," Hale interrupted. "Not out there. From now on, you exist only in here."
Seren shot the director a glance. "He doesn't even know what he is yet."
"Then he should start learning," Hale said, turning toward a corridor filled with shimmering glass. "Because the veil just moved."
He looked back over his shoulder, eyes glinting like mercury.
"And it moved because of him."