The veil brightened.
Then—pressure.
Not force.
Command.
A subtle distortion in the air that pressed against the city's deeper structures, testing for compliance.
Devansh felt the ancient protocols stir.
Contain.
Isolate.
Redirect.
Deliver.
The city knew what to do with deviations.
It had been built for them.
Ira's chest tightened as the heaviness inside her reacted—not outward, but defensively.
"They're activating something," she whispered.
"Yes," Rehaan said grimly. "A retrieval sequence."
The boundary shimmered violently.
Devansh's awareness flared through Vayukshi's inner frameworks.
He felt the city's deeper laws align—not with him.
Against him.
The first command formed.
Open a channel.
Deliver the convergence.
Devansh stepped fully in front of Ira.
The city's hum deepened.
Old lines of dark metal beneath the stone brightened faintly.
He felt the pull.
Not emotional.
Foundational.
The law did not ask.
It moved.
And for the first time since becoming what he was, Devansh did something impossible.
He refused.
Not emotionally.
Structurally.
He reached—not outward—
but inward.
Toward the place in himself that had begun to destabilize.
The place Ira had touched.
The place that no longer registered as empty.
The city's command met resistance.
The hum fractured.
The stone beneath his feet cracked faintly—not breaking, but misaligning.
Rehaan's breath left him sharply. "Devansh—"
"I was built to enforce," Devansh said quietly.
The veil wavered.
"I choose," he continued, "to obstruct."
The city shuddered.
Not violently.
In confusion.
The boundary flared.
The veil recoiled a fraction.
For the first time since its emergence—
the presence hesitated.
Ira felt it like a sudden hush.
"You are violating core architecture," the voice said.
"Yes," Devansh replied.
He did not raise his voice.
He did not reach for power.
He simply stood where the law expected absence.
And the law failed to proceed.
The veil dimmed.
Not gone.
But stalled.
Ira stared at him.
"What did you do?" she whispered.
He did not look at her.
"I broke," he said quietly, "the first thing that ever made me immortal."
Silence deepened.
And far beyond the boundary, in ash-lined halls, something recalibrated.