They didn't ask Kael to stay anymore.
They asked him to agree.
The proposal arrived just after noon, carried not by urgency but by procedure. Signed by district councils, ratified by Assembly subcommittees, and quietly endorsed by Wardens who had learned when to stop pretending neutrality existed.
Rae read it twice.
Then a third time.
"They're being careful," she said. "Too careful."
Mira leaned over her shoulder. "Careful how?"
"They're not demanding presence," Rae replied slowly. "They're defining conditions."
Kael exhaled. "That's worse."
Ashveil spoke.
"Conditional authority formalization detected."
The document was titled simply:
Intervention Accord — Draft One
It outlined thresholds.
Metrics.
Triggers.
When casualty projections exceeded a set value, Kael would be notified.
When systemic failure crossed probability margins, he would be requested.
When public stability dipped below tolerance, his presence would be… invited.
Not ordered.
Never ordered.
Everything phrased as cooperation.
Everything enforceable.
Mira scoffed. "They're outsourcing guilt."
Kael nodded. "And liability."
The Assembly presented it publicly.
Elyra Senn stood again at the plaza's center, composed but strained.
"This accord respects Kael Vorrin's autonomy," she said. "It does not bind him to location or duration."
Kael watched the crowd's reaction.
Hope.
Relief.
And something sharper.
Expectation with paperwork behind it.
Elyra continued. "But it also respects the lives at risk when intervention is delayed."
A man shouted, "So he has to come when we ask?"
Elyra hesitated—just long enough.
"He has the right to refuse," she said carefully.
The crowd didn't like that answer.
They wanted certainty.
Orien Halvek spoke an hour later.
Not opposing the accord.
Supporting it.
"This is progress," Orien said calmly.
"Consent requires structure, or it collapses into sentiment."
Kael watched the broadcast, jaw tight.
Orien continued.
"We cannot force Kael Vorrin to help.
But neither can we accept help that arrives arbitrarily."
Mira muttered, "He's legitimizing coercion."
"He's sanitizing it," Kael replied.
Ashveil added.
"Consent under metric pressure becomes obligation."
That evening, Kael stood at the city's edge again.
The same ridge. The same view.
Different weight.
If he signed, he became predictable.
If he refused, he became negligent.
There was no neutral ground left.
Mira joined him silently.
"You don't have to accept this," she said.
"I know," Kael replied.
"And if you don't?"
"They'll build a story where I chose principle over people."
She clenched her fists. "That's not fair."
Kael smiled faintly. "Fair left the moment they needed me."
Rae approached last.
"There's something else," she said quietly. "Clause nine."
Kael turned. "What does it say?"
She swallowed. "It allows provisional override during 'extraordinary convergence.'"
Mira went still. "Override of what?"
"Of Kael's refusal," Rae said. "By joint Assembly and Warden approval."
Silence fell.
Ashveil spoke.
"Soft compulsion encoded."
Kael closed his eyes.
They weren't asking him to stay.
They were preparing to make leaving illegal.
He returned to the city at dawn.
Not to stabilize.
Not to reassure.
To speak.
The plaza filled quickly.
Kael stood where Elyra usually did.
He didn't broadcast.
He didn't amplify.
He let the crowd decide to listen.
"I will not sign this," Kael said.
Noise rippled.
"I will continue to help," he continued. "But not under threat disguised as cooperation."
A voice shouted, "So people die because you won't commit?"
Kael met the man's gaze. "People die because systems fail. If you make me the system, you guarantee failure."
The words landed hard.
Orien watched from afar, expression unreadable.
Kael took a breath.
"I will intervene when I choose," he said. "And I will explain every choice publicly."
Murmurs surged.
"That's not enough," someone shouted.
"No," Kael agreed. "It isn't. But it's honest."
Ashveil spoke quietly.
"Authority redefined as transparency."
The Assembly recessed.
The accord stalled.
Not rejected.
Not passed.
Suspended.
Which was worse.
Because now, everyone waited.
Kael stepped away from the plaza, Mira at his side.
"You just painted a target on your back," she said.
Kael nodded. "Good."
She blinked. "Good?"
"If they're going to come for me," Kael said quietly, "I'd rather know where they're aiming."
Far away, Orien Halvek closed his notebook.
Because Kael had done something dangerous again.
He'd refused to be owned—
and offered something harder to control.
Accountable freedom.
The next move wouldn't be legal.
It would be personal.