The knock came at 10:03 AM on Thursday, just as CYAP was transitioning from "Morning Sparkle Circle" to "Creative Luminescence." Astraea was helping Mia untangle a knot of glow-string when Teacher Milly's voice cut through the cheerful chatter.
"Astraea, sweetie? There's someone here to see you."
Every child looked up. Visitors during CYAP were rare. Special. Exciting.
Except Astraea knew this wasn't exciting. She knew because she'd been expecting it since yesterday's close call at Beta-4. She knew because her dragon senses, still humming with stolen mana, could feel the authority in the footsteps approaching down the hallway.
Two people entered the Sparkle Room. The first was Counselor Davis, his professional smile firmly in place. The second was a woman Astraea didn't recognize—mid-thirties, sharp-eyed, wearing the dark blue uniform of the City Mana Utilities Security Division.
"Hello, friends!" Counselor Davis said with practiced cheer. "Sorry to interrupt your sparkle time! We just need to borrow Astraea for a few minutes for a… special check-in!"
Milly's smile faltered slightly. "Is everything alright?"
"Absolutely!" Davis assured her. "Just some routine follow-up on her wonderful growth progress! We'll be right in the observation room."
Astraea stood, her movements calm despite the cold knot in her stomach. She caught Leo's eye across the room. He was watching, his scientist's mind clearly processing the anomalies: the utility worker's uniform, the timing, the tension in Milly's shoulders.
She followed Davis and the security woman out of the room. The observation room was a small space with a one-way mirror looking into the Sparkle Room, usually used for parent observations or evaluator assessments. Today, it felt like an interrogation chamber.
"Sit down, Astraea," the security woman said, not unkindly but without Davis' artificial cheer. She placed a tablet on the table between them. "My name is Officer Reyes. I'm with City Mana Utilities. We're following up on an incident yesterday."
Davis hovered near the door. "Now, Officer, remember she's just a child—"
"I'm aware," Reyes said, her eyes never leaving Astraea. "Which is why I'm confused. Astraea, were you near the water treatment plant yesterday afternoon? Around 2:30 to 3:30?"
Astraea kept her face perfectly neutral. The child-mask settled over her like a second skin. "The water plant? No. That's far away."
"Are you sure?" Reyes tapped her tablet, and a grainy image appeared. Security footage from a street camera near Beta-4. It showed a small, hooded figure getting off a bus at 2:22 PM. The face was obscured, but the build was right. The jacket—grey with a tear on the left sleeve—was identical to the one hanging in Astraea's closet right now.
"I was at the playground," Astraea said, her voice steady. "Near my apartment. Then I went home."
"Alone?"
"Mrs. Gable was watching me."
Reyes nodded slowly. "We spoke with Mrs. Gable. She says you were there the whole time. Asleep on the couch."
Relief, sharp and sudden. The elderly neighbor had covered for her without even knowing. The nap story had worked.
But Reyes wasn't finished. She swiped to another image. This one was from inside the Beta-4 compound, timestamped 2:47 PM. It showed a blurry figure—small, hooded—scrambling through the piping gap in the fence. The face was turned away, but the jacket tear was visible.
"And this?" Reyes asked.
"I don't know," Astraea said, letting a note of confusion enter her voice. The child who doesn't understand why she's being shown these things. "That's not me."
"The jacket is identical."
"Lots of kids have grey jackets."
"With a tear in exactly the same place?"
Astraea looked down at her hands. Played the confused child. "I tore my jacket last week. On the playground. Mrs. Evans patched it."
This was true. She'd torn it deliberately yesterday after returning home, then asked Mrs. Evans to fix it. A precaution. A calculated detail.
Reyes studied her. Astraea could feel the woman's suspicion, her professional certainty that the child was lying. But she could also feel the constraints: a ten-year-old Luminous Child, Tier 0. A sweet girl in sparkle kindergarten. Against grainy footage and an old woman's testimony.
"Officer," Davis interjected gently, "perhaps there's been a mistake. Astraea's one of our most well-behaved—"
"There was a mana draw incident," Reyes said, cutting him off but still looking at Astraea. "Something pulled a significant amount of energy from Beta-4 gate. The signature matches other incidents around the city. If a child was involved, even accidentally…"
She let the implication hang. Astraea kept her eyes wide, innocent. I don't know what mana draw means. I'm just a sparkle-child.
The door to the observation room opened slightly. Leo stood there, holding a piece of construction paper covered in green glitter.
"Teacher Milly says to give this to Astraea," he said, his voice carefully neutral. "For her folder."
Davis took it with a strained smile. "Thank you, Leo. You can go back now."
But Leo didn't leave. He looked at the tablet screen, at the grainy image of the hooded figure. Then at Astraea. Then back at Reyes.
"That's not Raea," he said, matter-of-factly.
Reyes raised an eyebrow. "And how do you know, young man?"
"Three reasons," Leo said, holding up fingers. He sounded like his grandfather explaining a scientific principle. "First, the person in the picture is 142 centimeters tall based on the fence height reference. Astraea is 138 centimeters. I measured yesterday during growth chart."
Astraea kept her face still. She'd grown since his last measurement. He was using old data. Purposely?
"Second," Leo continued, "that jacket has the tear on the left sleeve. Astraea's tear is on the right sleeve. I saw it this morning."
A lie. A clear, deliberate lie. The tear was on the left. Leo knew it was on the left.
"Third," he said, lowering his voice slightly, "Astraea was with me yesterday afternoon. From 2:15 to 3:45. We were at the library. Working on a project about gate mechanics for my grandpa."
The room went very quiet. Davis looked confused. Reyes looked skeptical. Astraea looked at Leo, and for a moment, the ancient dragon and the ten-year-old boy understood each other perfectly.
He was covering for her. Not with vague assurances, but with specific, falsifiable details. Measurements. Times. Locations.
"Why didn't you mention this before?" Reyes asked Leo.
"No one asked me," Leo said, shrugging with perfect child-logic. "You asked Mrs. Gable. You asked Astraea. You didn't ask me."
Davis cleared his throat. "Leo, are you sure about this? The times?"
"Yes. We met at the library at 2:15. We left at 3:45. Mrs. Henderson at the children's desk saw us. She knows me because I go there every week."
Another layer. A witness. A credible adult witness.
Reyes looked from Leo to Astraea, then back to the tablet. The certainty in her eyes was crumbling, replaced by professional frustration. The case against a child was thin to begin with. Now, with an alibi, contradictory measurements, a potential witness…
"Thank you, Leo," she said finally, her voice tight. "You can go back to class."
Leo nodded, gave Astraea a quick look that said We'll talk later, and left.
The room was silent for a long moment.
"Officer," Davis said gently, "perhaps this is a case of mistaken identity. Or… perhaps there's another child out there with a similar jacket. Another Awakened, maybe, who doesn't know they're drawing mana…"
Reyes sighed, tapping her tablet to shut it off. "Maybe. But the pattern is concerning. Multiple gates. Significant draws. If it is a child, they're in danger. Gate energy isn't for untrained—"
"I'm sure if Astraea had seen anything, she'd tell us," Davis said, patting Astraea's shoulder. "Right, sweetie?"
"Right," Astraea whispered, the perfect picture of a confused, slightly scared child.
Reyes stood. "We'll be increasing patrols around minor gates. And we'll be reviewing all CYAP records for children with unusual energy signatures." Her eyes lingered on Astraea. "Just in case."
They left her in the observation room for a moment to "collect herself." Through the one-way mirror, she could see the Sparkle Room resuming normal activity. Leo was back at his table, carefully applying glitter to his project. He didn't look up.
But he had. He'd looked up when she needed him. He'd lied for her. Not just a simple lie, but a complex, detailed fabrication with measurements and timestamps and witness suggestions.
He knew. Maybe not everything, but enough. Enough to know she'd been at Beta-4. Enough to know she needed an alibi.
And he'd provided one without being asked. Without hesitation.
Back in the Sparkle Room twenty minutes later, as if nothing had happened, Leo slid a note to her during craft time. It wasn't on paper. It was on his tablet, which he'd borrowed for "research." One word, in large green letters:
LATER.
She nodded, just once.
That evening, as she measured her height (0.56 cm cumulative), she thought about friendship. About what it meant that a human child would risk lying to authorities for her. Would construct an elaborate story to protect her.
She'd had friends across the centuries, of course. Brief, bright connections with mortals who lived and died while she remained. But those friendships had always been from a position of distance. Of watching, not participating.
This was different. Leo wasn't just a fleeting connection. He was becoming… something else. An accomplice. A co-conspirator.
And she didn't know how to feel about that.
[System notification!]
[Achievement unlocked: 'Loyal friends!']
[Description: A friend stood up for you when it mattered!]
[Reward: 'True friend' Title, +10 to Trust stat]
[Note: Good friends help each other through tricky situations! Remember to thank them!]
The System, for once, was completely right.
She needed to thank him. And she needed to decide how much truth to give in return.
Because Leo had stepped into her secret. Willingly. And now he was part of it.
Tonight: gratitude and guilt. Tomorrow: conversations and choices. The circle of secrecy had grown by one, and nothing would be quite the same again.