Kael drifted back to consciousness, inch by inch.

  A dirty white light flickered above his face — not the golden glow of the labyrinth, nor daylight, just an oil lamp hanging from a creaking beam.

  The smell hit him next: alcohol, iron, and the sour stench of poorly washed flesh.

  Around him, tattered curtains separated makeshift beds — canvas sheets stretched over crooked poles.

  Wind slipped through the seams, carrying dust and the distant hum of the marketplace.

  He understood then: he was lying in a field infirmary, the kind they set up outside the proper districts — a wasteland turned into a hospital of misery.

  He tried to move and pain stabbed through his skull.

  His mouth was dry, his tongue glued to the roof of his mouth.

  He grimaced.

  “Great… Headache, throat made of sandpaper… I’d say that’s a marked improvement.”

  “You still manage to joke at the worst possible times, huh?”

  The voice made him jump.

  He turned his head slowly.

  Sitting on a rickety chair beside him, elbows on her knees, Maria watched him with that blend of exasperation and softness that belonged only to her.

  Her brown hair was a mess on her shoulders, and her green eyes shone with barely contained worry.

  “Maria…?”

  He snorted a faint laugh. “You look awful too.”

  “I’m not the one who passed out, Kael.”

  She sighed, shaking her head.

  “They told me you collapsed at the workshop. Connie panicked. They thought you were gonna die right there.”

  Kael gave a tired, crooked smile.

  “And they sent you to make sure I’m still alive enough to keep working?”

  Maria rolled her eyes — but she couldn’t hide her smile.

  “If you weren’t so damn stubborn, I’d hit you for scaring me.”

  Kael tried to sit up.

  His arms trembled, but he managed to swing his legs over the edge of the bed.

  His head still hummed, but at least the world wasn’t spinning anymore.

  “I guess I should go back to the workshop,” he muttered, rubbing his neck.

  “Connie and I… clearly have a conversation waiting for us.

  And knowing her, she’s not gonna wait for me to feel better before tearing into me.”

  Maria raised a brow, lips curving.

  “Well, for once, today’s your lucky day.”

  “My what?” Kael asked, half-ironic, half-dubious.

  “Connie’s here,” she replied.

  “She’s speaking with the doctor who treated you.”

  Kael blinked in surprise.

  “She came here?”

  Maria nodded.

  “Yes. And judging by her face, she was more worried than she wants to admit.”

  Kael didn’t answer at first. Something in his expression tightened — touched, maybe.

  Then the shutters dropped again.

  “Or she just wants me back on my feet fast enough to finish that stupid contract,” he muttered.

  Maria let out a small laugh.

  “You’re hopeless.”

  “Realistic,” Kael corrected with a faint smirk.

  He leaned forward to reach his jacket at the foot of the bed.

  Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

  “We’ll see whether I missed her or not.”

  Maria rested a hand on his shoulder — firm, warm.

  “Don’t get up. I’ll go get Connie. Stay put.”

  She stood, glanced around the tent as if measuring the distance, then hurried off.

  Kael watched her go, a little stunned.

  She should’ve been tending tables or working in the bar — anywhere but here — yet she’d stayed by his side.

  A small knot of pride rose in his chest — stupid, embarrassing, but real.

  He let out a short, bitter-satisfied laugh.

  “Huh… passing out in the middle of a conversation is nicer than I thought,” he murmured.

  Maria returned sooner than expected, followed closely by a man in a stained coat and by Connie — her face tight, dark circles making her look ten years older.

  The doctor wore the expression of someone preparing to deliver unpleasant news.

  Kael cracked an eye open, still halfway back into sleep.

  “Ah… I would’ve stood up to greet you, but I was strictly forbidden,” he said, shooting Maria a glance.

  She flushed slightly, smiling in embarrassment.

  “I plead guilty.”

  “Kael, this is really not the time to joke,” Connie cut in sharply.

  He blinked slowly, trying a weak smile.

  “If I’m sick, it’s probably my roommate’s fault,” he muttered.

  “The rat. He eats all my food… so it’s gotta be hunger doing this.”

  Maria stifled a laugh.

  Connie shook her head between anger and worry.

  The doctor didn’t smile. He flipped through his notes again, searching for the right words.

  Finally, he looked up.

  “Mr. Kael… do you know what the Trial is?”

  The word hit the air like a blade.

  Kael sat up straight.

  A strange heat surged through his head, as if his blood had begun boiling beneath his skin.

  He knew exactly what the doctor would say next.

  And he refused to hear it.

  “Yes, I know what it is. And no, this isn’t that.”

  He forced a strained smile.

  “I’m telling you, it’s that damn rat. He eats everything. I’m just hungry, that’s all.”

  Maria looked away, uncomfortable.

  Connie stayed frozen, arms crossed.

  The doctor exhaled through his nose — calm, measured, almost too gentle.

  “Very well, Mr. Kael. Then tell me one thing:

  do you know the symptoms that precede a Trial?”

  Kael’s jaw tightened.

  “No idea. And I’d rather not know.”

  The doctor nodded slowly.

  “In that case, simply describe what you feel.

  I already know the diagnosis, but I’d like to hear it from you.”

  Kael didn’t speak for a long moment.

  His gaze slid to the floor, to the dust gathering between the planks.

  When he finally spoke, the humor was gone from his voice.

  “It always starts the same…”

  A tension in the neck — like something’s trying to pull the nerves out of my skin.

  Then it spreads into the shoulders, the jaw.

  Feels like my body wants to tear itself apart.

  He dragged a trembling hand across his face.

  “Then there’s this buzzing in the temples. Not loud — not really a sound.

  More like… a rhythm. Like wings beating somewhere inside my skull.”

  His fingers tightened around the blanket.

  “And… in the morning, I wake up crying. Drenched.

  Just… sad. Really sad.

  No dreams. No memory. Just the feeling.”

  “The only thing I do remember…”

  He cut himself off.

  “No. Doesn’t matter.”

  He shrugged weakly.

  “The rest, you already know. Convulsions, vomiting, all that.”

  The doctor stared at him for a moment — evaluating, weighing.

  Then he inhaled deeply.

  “I see… Would you like me to tell you exactly what you have?”

  Connie looked away instantly.

  Her hands clenched around her dress, and a tiny, stifled sob escaped her.

  Maria leaned forward, eyes wide with worry.

  “Yes, please…”

  She clearly wasn’t ready for the answer.

  The doctor turned to Kael for confirmation.

  Kael held his gaze for a few seconds.

  Then nodded once.

  “Go on.”

  The doctor straightened his notes and spoke with a clinical, unwavering tone.

  “Mr. Kael, you are not suffering from malnutrition.

  You are a potential Fragmented.”

  Maria’s face drained of color.

  Connie’s fingers twisted her dress even harder.

  The doctor continued:

  “Your Trial has already begun to manifest.

  In truth, you should have been pulled into the Immaterial long ago — you’ve held on only because you are exceptionally resistant without a Stabilizing Veil.”

  His words fell one by one, sharp and absolute.

  Kael clenched his jaw but said nothing.

  The doctor reached into his satchel and pulled out a small, perfect sphere — translucent, iridescent, like crystallized dew.

  “This is crystallized Elan,” he explained.

  “It is visible to latents only in this state.

  It is used to detect potential bearers of a Trame.”

  He held it up.

  “The rule is simple: if you hold it in your hand and it breaks, it means your Elan is unstable.”

  He placed it in his own palm.

  Nothing happened.

  “As expected.”

  He handed it to Connie.

  She hesitated, then took it.

  No reaction.

  Then to Maria.

  She grabbed it sharply — jaw tight, eyes furious.

  Still nothing.

  “See?” she snapped.

  “Nothing. Your test is stupid.”

  She shoved the sphere back toward Kael.

  “Here. Show him he’s wrong.”

  Kael took the sphere without much interest.

  It was lighter than he imagined, warm — almost breathing in his palm.

  He rolled it between his fingers.

  “See, doc? Nothing. Not a crack, not a glow.”

  He smirked, exhausted but defiant.

  “If I’m gonna die, it’ll be from hunger or boredom, not some imaginary Trial.”

  Maria let out a shaky laugh.

  “See? Told you. Kael, a Fragmented? Come on.”

  Connie didn’t laugh.

  Her eyes stayed fixed on the sphere — unmoving.

  The doctor opened his mouth to speak—

  The sphere shivered.

  Just a tremor — soft as a heartbeat.

  Then a faint sound escaped it.

  Like a sigh.

  Kael lowered his hand, frowning.

  “What the—”

  The sphere exploded.

  Not in shards — but in a cloud of light, thousands of glowing fragments, like stars torn from the sky.

  Maria stumbled back with a gasp.

  Connie shielded her eyes.

  The doctor went stone-still.

  Kael stared, breathless, as the lights drifted around his fingers.

  Some followed the lines of his palm.

  Others traced golden threads in the air, weaving a pattern too complex to name.

  And then — slowly — the glow faded.

  The air fell still again.

  Only the faint tremor in Kael’s hand remained.

  And the strange, undeniable feeling that a string had just tightened

  between his heart —

  and the world.