The wind howled through the broken transit tunnels beneath Hollowreach, carrying ash and echoes. Kael moved in silence, his boots crunching over shattered glass and rusted tracks. Behind him, Lyra followed—unflinching, unreadable.
He had expected questions. Interrogation. A veiled threat.
Instead, she said nothing.
She walked with the quiet confidence of someone who already knew what mattered, and had decided it wasn't time to say it aloud.
Finally, Kael broke the silence. "You didn't have to help me."
"I didn't." Her voice echoed faintly. "You helped yourself. I just… watched."
He shot her a sideways glance. "You watched three inquisitors die."
She gave a ghost of a smile. "They weren't very good ones."
Kael didn't smile back.
He didn't trust her. Couldn't. But there was something about her presence—like cold fire, steady and alert—that felt familiar. Dangerous, but not hostile. Not yet.
They passed a collapsed elevator shaft, the remnants of old Empire steel twisted like vines. Kael's breath fogged faintly in the cold. The air was thinning.
"We can't stay down here," he muttered.
"No. But if we go up too fast, you'll be seen."
"You're assuming they don't already know."
Lyra stopped. "They know. But they're not moving in yet."
He turned. "Why?"
She looked at him evenly. "Because they're waiting for him."
Kael didn't have to ask who.
He felt it—like a chill behind his ribs, a pressure in the air.
[ SYSTEM ALERT: Host proximity to Inquisitor-class presence. ]
[ Threat Level: Omega Black. ]
[ Warning: You will not survive direct engagement. ]
Kael's fists clenched. "Malrek."
"The Mask of Law," Lyra confirmed. "High Inquisitor. Emperor's hand. He doesn't chase. He appears when decisions are made."
"Then let's not give him a reason."
She studied him. "You're already a reason."
Kael looked away, jaw tight. The last of the adrenaline was fading. His limbs ached. The glow under his skin had dimmed. Even with Blinkstrike, even with the system, he was still just—
One man.
Against an empire.
They found temporary shelter inside the husk of an old data nexus—long-dead servers humming faintly with backup power, their screens flickering like forgotten stars.
Kael slumped against the wall, exhaling slow. His shoulder throbbed. He peeled back the torn fabric of his tunic. The wound was deep.
"You should rest," Lyra said.
"I can't."
"You won't."
He gave her a look.
She crossed her arms. "The system won't carry you forever. Especially not that one."
Kael's gaze sharpened. "You've seen it before."
"Not exactly. But I've studied fragments. The 'Unwritten Protocol'… it's a system built on paradox. You aren't granted power. You create it—by rejecting what's supposed to happen."
He frowned. "Fate manipulation."
"Worse." She knelt beside a busted console, tracing a symbol etched into the dust. "You're not just changing outcomes. You're stepping off the map."
Kael felt the system pulse within him.
[ Fate Divergence: Active. ]
[ Warning: Each rejection deepens instability. ]
"How many rejections until I fall off the edge?" he asked.
She looked up. "That's the problem. No one knows where the edge is."
Kael stood, ignoring the pain.
He walked to the center of the room, breathing through clenched teeth.
He was tired of running.
Tired of waiting for something worse to appear. Of hiding in the cracks of a broken empire.
He turned to Lyra.
"What happens if I stop waiting?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean—what happens if I stop reacting to fate and start writing it?"
She said nothing.
He raised his hand. The system shimmered faintly in his palm.
[ Command Input Detected. ]
[ System Node Access: OPEN. ]
He spoke aloud.
"I choose a path of my own."
The room pulsed.
The system's glow spread from Kael's palm up his arm, like ink in water. Data points swirled into the air, forming an arc of symbols—circular, alive, unbound by gravity.
[ Manual Override Accepted. ]
[ New Destiny Path Created: "Ashborn" ]
[ Status: Rogue Node – Untracked by Central Fate Lattice. ]
[ System Warning: Proceeding will sever alignment with predetermined outcomes. ]
Kael didn't flinch.
He didn't understand all the words. Didn't need to.
He understood one thing:
He had chosen to be the author of his own life.
The glowing UI collapsed into his chest with a whisper of static.
Lyra was watching him with something unreadable in her eyes.
"You're rewriting your code," she said. "That's not freedom. That's war."
Kael looked at her. "Then I guess I just declared it."
Far above, on the broken levels of Hollowreach, a figure stood at the edge of the crater.
Inquisitor Malrek.
His cloak didn't move in the wind. His mask—a silver plate split by a vertical line of black light—was silent. Around him, the ashes circled upward as if afraid to land.
He held no weapon. He needed none.
A Gravemare crouched beside him, trembling slightly as if sensing its master's mood.
"Target has destabilized the lattice," a voice crackled through his comm. "Awaiting orders."
Malrek tilted his head.
The world beneath his feet had changed.
It had not asked permission.
He hated that.
Back in the data nexus, Kael paced.
"The system gave me a name. Ashborn."
Lyra frowned. "A rogue path. Unmapped. You won't know what's coming."
"Do any of us?"
"Most people lie to themselves and say yes." She paused. "You don't get to anymore."
He stopped. "Good."
She blinked. "Why?"
Kael's gaze sharpened.
"Because for the first time in years… I'm not lying to myself either."
He looked down at his hands.
No chains. No collar.
Just scars—and possibility.
He turned to her again.
"I don't want to escape the Empire," he said.
"I want to tear it down."
Silence stretched between them like wire.
Finally, Lyra moved.
She reached into her sleeve, pulled out a small shard of obsidian etched with a sigil that burned when she touched it.
"This will get you past the first gates," she said. "Out of the Wastes. Toward the inner provinces."
Kael took it.
Their fingers brushed.
He looked up. "Why are you helping me?"
She didn't answer right away.
Instead, she said, "The Empire believes the stars fell because of war. But I've seen the old records."
"And?"
Her eyes glittered like stormlight.
"They fell because someone tried to rise too far."
Outside, in the scorched sky, the black sun flickered—just once.
Somewhere, deep in the empire, old algorithms stirred.
The Unwritten Protocol had fully awakened.