While Allium lived among the people of Sunslope—learning the weight of unguarded moments and small choices—the rest of the world tightened without spectacle.
Jax and Thane sat before the holo-table.
Central's projection rose cleanly, precise and unblinking. The system never stuttered. It never hesitated.
"The Balance Keeper is mobile," Jax said evenly. "Khelos remains unaccounted for. Varos sustained severe damage, but I do not believe he is neutralized."
The hologram shifted.
A man resolved in layered metal—plates from different eras, different wars, fused into something that resembled authority more than armor. At his right hip hung a preserved Seraphim hand, shriveled and bound with thread, worn like a relic that had never been granted rest.
At his left, an organic sword shifted subtly, its surface undecided, alive.
His eyes did not linger.
When he spoke, his voice was calm to the point of disquiet.
"That is… unfavorable."
His gaze fixed on Jax.
"The Balance Keeper requires supervision. Any behavioral deviations are to be reported directly to my Royal Guard."
"Understood," Jax replied.
There was a slight tension in his jaw—controlled, contained.
"No additional Seraphim-level threats have been detected," Jax continued. "At this time."
Thane leaned forward.
"Should we request reinforcements?"
The hologram answered before Jax could.
"I have already dispatched Commander Dorian Hawk," the man said. "And Sable. They will arrive within the week."
Jax's shoulders stiffened.
"Our sector isn't the only one destabilizing," Jax said carefully. "Soul-takers are restless elsewhere. A Balance Keeper walking openly doesn't signal peace—it signals escalation. Larger threats. Heavier responses."
The hologram did not rise to the challenge.
"I permitted your independence from Central," the man said. "Do not make me reconsider that decision."
A pause.
"Understood," Jax said.
The projection vanished.
The room felt smaller.
Jax turned and drove his fist into the wall.
The impact cracked the surface plating. Pain flared—sharp, grounding—but it didn't settle what churned beneath it.
Thane stared.
"…You alright?"
"He's sending Hawk," Thane added quietly. "I hate that guy."
"And Sable," Jax said.
Thane frowned. "Who?"
Jax hesitated—not from uncertainty, but from resistance.
"She's from the deeper Virel settlements," he said. "Light-trained. Predatory. Everything she sees goes straight to Vex."
Thane grimaced. "That's comforting."
"It's not meant to be."
They moved toward the med bay.
Nina emerged from a side corridor, tablet tucked under her arm.
"Doctor," Jax said. "Status on the Keeper."
Nina blinked. "Stable. Awake. They're all at Sunslope."
Jax stopped.
"Why wasn't I notified directly?"
"I sent the report an hour ago," Nina replied. "Through proper channels."
Thane glanced at his wrist display. "She's right. We've got it."
Jax turned sharply.
"That's Commander," he said coldly. "And last I checked, we had comms dismissed, Champion."
The word landed like a blade.
Not Thane.
Champion.
Thane froze.
Then slowly shook his head.
"…That's not you," he said, and walked away.
Nina stared at Jax, stunned.
"You need rest," she said flatly. "Whatever this is—it's not operational clarity."
She didn't wait for a response.
Jax stood alone in the corridor.
His thoughts refused to line up. Urgency without cause. Anger without focus. A pressure behind his eyes that felt less like stress and more like influence—as if something leaned toward his thoughts without ever touching them.
Where did that come from?
He didn't have an answer.
He ended up in the café without remembering the walk. Ordered coffee he didn't need. Sat alone as it cooled untouched.
A desperate internal voice tried to slow him.
It sounded like his own.
It failed.
Above him, a light flickered.
Once.
Then steadied.
No alarms.
No warnings.
No one noticed.
And somewhere unseen, something patient