LOGINThe scent of him hit me first, a familiar wave of sandalwood and frost that used to make my heart stutter. Now, it just made it clench like a fist.
Kairi stood in the doorway of my mother’s cramped living room, his broad shoulders seemed to swallow the dark light.
He was every inch the Alpha, even here, in this shabby space that smelled of stale tea and quiet desperation.
Jack, who had been a threatening presence moments before, appeared to shrink, scurrying back to the sofa like a cockroach fleeing from a bright light.
It was a strange sight to see a bully decline not from a threat, but from the pure, unconscious supremacy of a higher power.
My eyes adjusted, and the illusion dissipated. He was not as tall as I remembered. Perhaps the pedestal I'd created for him in my heart had finally crumbled to dust after all these years.
“Before anything else, what the hell are you doing here, Jack?” Kairi's voice sounded low, like distant thunder with no warmth. It was absolute, frigid authority. The question was not for me.
Jack stuttered, “nothing Alpha, I was just—"
"I asked you a question," Kairi interrupted him, his gaze never leaving the terrified man. "If Beta Kelra hadn't seen you heading this way, I wouldn't have known where you'd slunk off to. Explain yourself."
Kairi's careless, accusing tone burst the short sense of success I had felt at Jack's departure. His concern for me, and his apology for leaving me, were all for show in front of Jack's face.
He wasn't there for me. I was simply part of the awkward scenery.
I had forgotten just now that I am merely a substitute, I thought to myself, the words harsh in my thoughts. How can I even believe Kairi genuinely care about me for a moment? Unless I am the noble princess he truly admire.
It was a cheap shot, a fragment of an old insecurity I’d voiced to him in a vulnerable moment. He’d kissed my fears away then.
His gaze eventually shifted to me, and his eyes—those flat, icy grey eyes I'd previously bathed in—showed no recollection of our common history.
"Sze," he replied, dismissing my name from his lips. He held up a bag that I had not noticed. "To which hospital did you take Elisse? I drank too much at the event last night and completely forgot her birthday. I bought her a gift."
The world slowed down when I saw the present.
The ticking of the clock on the wall became into a dull, throbbing pounding in my ears. He took out a package. A Barbie doll. Plastic smile with bright pink packaging. My eyes followed the lines of it, the synthetic blonde hair and the lifeless blue eyes.
It was similar to the one he had purchased for her last year. And the year before that. Three similar gifts. For a girl turning eight. For a daughter he never really cared for.
"this gift again, Kairi?" The words were out before I could stop them, laced with bitterness that surprised even me. "The 'Sparkling Ballerina' edition. Exactly like last year and the year before."
He blinked, briefly confused. "What? She loves them. What's this issue?"
"The issue is that she's eight, not five. The issue is, she told you last year that her favorite animal is a wolf, not a plastic doll in a pink tutu." My voice trembled.
Yes, after all, it's simply a daughter born to a substitute mate, so there's no need to make an effort.
The notion was like a shard of glass in my soul.
Perhaps when he'll have a child with Bianca soon. a rightful heir. A princess or prince. That child will get gifts picked with care and love. Their birthday will be a pack-wide celebration, not a forgotten occasion fixed with a last-minute, duplicate toy.
Thinking about it made my heart throb so much that breathing became difficult.
I believed I had treated the wound and created walls high enough to keep the pain out. But it wasn't about me anymore. It was about Elisse. My baby, my angel, deserved to be born into a loving family, with a father who regarded her as a miracle, a gift from the moon goddess, not a mistake.
The question came from somewhere so deep and raw within me that I couldn't recognize my own voice.
"Kairi, have you ever loved our daughter? Have you ever really loved Elisse?"
He paused, holding the Barbie box loosely in his palm. He appeared perplexed, his brow furrowing as if I had asked him to interpret a complicated star chart.
"What kind of crazy question is that? Of course I do. She is my daughter."
That was it. That was his only defense. A biological reality. Ownership, not love.
Something in me, which had been strained taut for years, suddenly snapped.
"So why don't you know?"My voice cracked. "Why didn't you know your daughter had stage four kidney disease? Why don't you realize she requires specialized care, long-term hospitalization, and a medical regimen that costs more than I earn in a month? A transplant?"
I exploded, the volume of my own voice breaking the silence in the room. I never used that tone with him before, a primal, maternal shout. "Kairi, why don't you know that?"
He took a step back, his countenance changing from puzzlement to fierce irritation.
Stop it, Sze. Why are you continuously doing this? Why are you cursing your own daughter with these lies? Every month, the family doctor delivers her a clean bill of health. Is this another one of your schemes? Another reason just to visit me?"
The unfairness was physical. Lies? Ploys?
"The family doctor," I spat out like poison, "is bribed by Riri! I wouldn't have almost lost her when she was a year old if she hadn't been whispering in his ear and told him everything was alright!"
The recollection of that terror, her young body listless and feverish in my arms, returned.
"I saw Riri with him, Kairi! In the clinic's hallway! I brought Elisse to the pack hospital myself, and they performed the tests. They found it! A genetic kidney disorder! But you choose to believe her. You've always chosen to believe her over me!"
I hoped for Kairi to believe me, I yearn for his answer that he would be taking on our daughter's side and believe my words.
but what shocked me was when Kairi eventually replied.
With disbelief, he shook his head and his face was full of annoyance. "Riri and I have been friends since we were pups. She's devoted to this pack. Why would she lie? Have you gone, Sze? You are overthinking too much."
The world didn’t end with a big noise or a scary silence. It ended with a warm, quiet feeling of home. It ended with the happy rumble in my own chest, a sound that shook the wood of our little house.Peace isn’t something you just have. It’s a place. You have to guard it, mark its edges, keep watch. The Blandness, and that cold Chrome thing behind it, weren’t gone. You can’t kill an idea. But you can make a home so full of life that the idea has nowhere to stand. We did that.My study used to be a quiet place for old scrolls and unbreakable rules. Now, it’s a map room of our loud, messy, happy life. Lyra’s drawings of how roots grow are stuck next to Silas’s charts of bird songs, and my own notes on how to keep our little piece of the world safe. On the biggest wall, there’s a drawing in a frame. Lyra drew it. It’s Sze, asleep in a sunbeam, a piece of his wild hair over the mark on his shoulder. I wrote around the edges, not laws, but the names of things we love: The sound of a breaki
The silence in the cottage after our return was heavy, but it wasn't the Blandness. It was the quiet of a storm passed, leaving us all bruised and reeling. I stood by the hearth, the weight of the Chrome Figure's words a leaden reality in my gut. A faulty copy. A ghost of a noise.I stared into the flames, seeing not fire, but the sterile, mirrored surface that had shown my reflection—my real reflection—overlaid with Lyra’s. The same constellation of marks on the shoulder. A Maker’s sigil. A brand of origin.Kairi was a vortex of restless energy. He couldn't stop. The mystery had reshaped itself, and him with it. His usual crisp movements were jagged, his Lawgiver’s composure frayed at the edges."The paradox isn't just stable," he growled, the word low and rough, more animal than academic. He paced, a caged thing. "It's feral. It shouldn't exist, but it does. It has teeth." He stopped, pinning me with a gaze that was no longer dissecting, but… hunting. "Your storms were never just we
The word—RECALIBRATION—wasn’t a sound. It was a concept stamped directly onto my consciousness, cold and sterile as a surgical steel tray. The Conductor, now a mere baton in the chrome figure’s grip, hummed with subdued, obedient energy.My brain stuttered, trying to process the new threat. “Okay,” I breathed, my voice the only ragged, human thing in the crushing silence. “He brought his manager.”The Chrome Figure’s head tilted the other way. Another word formed in our minds: “ANOMALIES. PATTERN: PERSISTENT. SOURCE: PROXIMATE TO EPICENTER.” Its blank face-plate swept over us, pausing on Lyra, then on me. A longer pause. A series of quick, precise pulses, like a scanner, washed over my skin.Lyra had her knife out, but her hand was shaking. Kairi was paralyzed, not by fear, but by a Lawgiver’s rapt horror at this new, terrible logic. Silas simply looked like he wanted to be sick.“QUERY,” the concept bloomed. It was aimed at me. “IDENTIFY CONTAMINATION VECTOR.”“My winning personality
The victory hangover was worse than any cheap ale. It wasn't the pleasant ache of muscles used, but a deep, psychic fatigue, as if our souls had been stretched and snapped back. For two days, we moved through the cottage like ghosts, jumping at ordinary shadows. The silence we’d won felt fragile, a soap bubble balanced on a spike.Kairi, of course, refused to rest. He’d swapped the spinning battle-sigils for a new obsession: the paradox.“It wasn’t just an absence,” he muttered, hunched over a slate covered in self-erasing chalk-runes. “It was a structured absence. A negation with intent. A logical weapon. If we could replicate it without requiring you to have traumatic amnesia, Sze…”“Please don’t,” I said from the hearth, where I was listlessly poking the fire. Every pop and crackle still sounded like a minor miracle. “I’m not keen on having more bits of me carved out to make metaphysical scalpels. I’m running low on fond childhood memories as it is.”“We wouldn’t use your memories.
The riot was winning. The Conductor’s form, that pillar of austere simplification, was churning like a grey storm cloud, unable to coalesce against the hurricane of our specific, stubborn noise. We were a beautiful, deafening mess.And then, it *changed*.It didn't retreat. It didn't attack. It *adapted*. The churning grey solidified into a new shape: a smooth, featureless oval, like a giant, blank lens. And it turned its non-face toward the heart of our noise.Toward Lyra.A single, pure tone emanated from it. Not loud. Not a silencing wave. It was a clear, piercing note, a perfect middle C that cut through our cacophony like a scalpel. And as it touched the edges of our riotous energy, something horrible happened.*Harmonization.*Our glorious, clashing discord—Silas's raspberry, my yelling, Kairi's shouted laws—didn't vanish. It was *subsumed*. Drawn into that single note, smoothed out, simplified into a bland, consonant harmony that supported the central tone. Our noise was being
A week of quiet, and the waiting had become its own kind of torture. The air itself felt thin, stretched taut by expectation. Kairi’s declaration of ‘crescendo’ had morphed from a battle cry into a grinding routine of preparation. We weren’t just sharpening knives; we were sharpening ourselves.“The Conductor operates on a principle of enforced simplicity,” Kairi lectured one evening, a complex, three-dimensional chart of interlocking sigils spinning lazily above the table. It was a map of our collective ‘noise-profile.’ “Our counter must be orchestrated complexity. We need a piece. A performance so layered with specific, identity-saturated meaning it will act as a metaphysical battering ram.”“A piece?” I echoed, stirring a stew that smelled of resentment and root vegetables. “You want us to put on a play for the existential bleach salesman?”“Not a play. A cantata. A story told in multiple, simultaneous voices—yours, Lyra’s, Silas’s, mine, Maia’s. A story he cannot simplify without







