Ash sat at the far edge of the orphanage garden, his back against a stone column, listening.
Not to the voices of the other children — they rarely spoke to him now. Not to the wind. Not even to the birdsong that occasionally fluttered through the artificial dome.
He was listening to the quiet.
And within that quiet, something had begun to stir.
A pattern.
No… more like a presence.
An echo from within himself.
It did not speak.
But it pulled.
---
That morning, Instructor Halren called him aside after class.
"I want you to accompany me to the meditation wing," he said calmly. "No punishment. Just curiosity."
Ash nodded once.
He followed the man through the halls to a chamber rarely used. It was circular, lined with black tiles that softly absorbed sound. At the center lay a smooth, floating disc carved with ancient glyphs — one of the oldest soul-sensing devices the city still maintained.
"Sit," Halren said.
Ash did.
"Breathe," he continued. "Don't control it. Just let your body settle."
Ash obeyed, slow and still.
The disc glowed faintly.
Halren touched the edges, and concentric rings began to rotate around Ash, measuring his spiritual density, energy alignment, and core formation potential.
Ash simply stared forward.
Then the rings shuddered.
A single flicker pulsed through the floor.
The glyphs dimmed.
And then reversed.
Halren stiffened.
"…Interesting," he murmured.
"What does it mean?" Ash asked.
"Nothing definitive," Halren said too quickly. "Just… unusual harmonics."
But Ash saw it.
The man's fingers were clenched. His breath was measured. And there was a faint bead of sweat on his temple.
> He knows something.
Ash stood.
"May I return now?"
Halren hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. But Ash… if anything changes — inside you, I mean — tell me. This city does not favor chaos."
Ash said nothing.
Because the city feared truth, not chaos.
And truth was already growing inside him.
---
That night, when the others slept, Ash sat on the floor of his room.
The scythe lay beside him — silent, unformed.
The black book sat in his lap.
He opened to the third page.
There were words now.
Faint, like whispers scratched into charcoal.
> "To walk the forgotten path,
you must bleed into yourself.
Close your eyes,
and remember how silence breathes."
He did not fully understand.
But his body did.
So Ash closed his eyes.
And the world fell away.
---
He stood once more in that place beyond space.
No stars. No ground. No body.
Just stillness.
And the faint breath beneath it all.
> "Begin."
The voice came from nowhere. And everywhere.
Ash extended his hands — not physically, but with the feeling of limbs.
And before him, the scythe took form.
Not in metal.
In concept.
A curve of stillness. A handle of memory.
It hovered. Waiting.
Then moved toward him.
Touched his chest.
And vanished inside.
Ash inhaled.
---
His soul flared open.
Not like a flame.
Like a grave being unearthed.
Energy spiraled inward, pulled from within, not from the world. His own cells cracked and rewove. His blood slowed. His heart beat once, heavily — then resumed, altered.
> [Technique Initiated: Order of Death]
[Stage I – Root of Silence]
[Energy: Internalized Reversal Loop Established]
[Warning: Incompatible with Systemic Law]
[Result: Undetectable to Standard Scan Systems]
[Cultivation Path: Forbidden / Nonlinear / Eternal]
Ash did not smile.
He simply breathed.
For the first time, the world no longer felt like a cage.
It felt… beneath him.
---
Hours later, Ash stood under the courtyard archway as the artificial sun began to rise.
The others would soon awaken.
He looked down at his palm.
No mark.
But within, he felt the scythe now.
Not as a weapon.
As a center.
And around it, something else had started to move.
He could now sense… threads.
Fine, invisible lines connected to the other children — energy trails, habits, emotions.
The city. Its power flows. Its pulse.
Even the air. He could feel when it shifted. When it lied.
Ash looked up at the sky.
> "I was asleep," he whispered.
"Now I'm listening."
---
Far above, in Watcher Sevina's crystal observatory, the Seeker shivered.
Not from temperature.
From instinct.
The mark had reappeared for a moment.
Not to the world.
Just to it.
And when it looked, it had seen… nothing.
Ash was already outside known law.
Already vanishing from the world's structure.
Sevina frowned.
"Too early," she muttered. "Much too early."
She turned to the shadow behind her.
"Send her."
The shadow bowed.
"She will be enrolled by sunrise."
---
In the orphanage head office, a priority transfer form flickered onto the director's desk.
It bore a silver seal — the direct emblem of the Order.
It read:
> [REQUEST: CLASS INTEGRATION]
[NAME: ELAINE VIRELLA]
[AGE: 10]
[SECTOR: HIGH ACADEMY ARC-CORE]
[SPECIAL STATUS: OBSERVER]
[REASON: SOCIAL ADAPTATION EXERCISE]
[INSTRUCTOR OF RECORD: HALREN ORIN]
[EXECUTE TRANSFER – LEVEL 2 CLEARANCE APPROVED]
The director blinked.
"Didn't request anyone."
But he signed it anyway.
Because you didn't question an Order seal.
---
The next morning, Ash entered the classroom to find a new child seated near his usual place.
She was small, pale, with sharp violet eyes and hair like woven silver thread. Her uniform bore the trim of a far higher academy.
And when she looked at him, she didn't blink.
Not once.
Even Tarek noticed.
"She looks weird," he muttered. "Like she's reading everyone."
Ash nodded slightly.
Because she was.
And when her gaze fell fully on him…
She frowned.
Not in fear.
In confusion.
Like she was trying to solve him.
And failing.