It was the kind of knocking on the door that could wake up the dead, and it happened far too early in the morning for politeness. Kandar staggered off his bed, chest and arm in searing pain. He muttered a curse, but quickly thanked the Pathmaker that his parents were out of town, sparing them the disturbance. He's certain his younger brother and sister are awake by now.

  His drowsy walk down the stairs was torturous, but he made it downstairs. Samira poked her head out of the guest room, her expression was pure annoyance at the disturbance.

  "Hey," Kandar greeted her. "Could you maybe stop the air from carrying the noise so far into the house?" He asked jokingly.

  "And suffocate us all?" she asked flatly. "Let's just find out who it is and get back to sleep."

  "No arguments here," Kandar said, the two of them now heading for the main entrance.

  "Excuse me, sir. This is private property, and we are not receiving guests at this hour." Mondo said, stepping into the doorway.

  "I have an urgent message for Samira Akrafona." The other voice said. It was somehow familiar. Kandar peeked.

  Lucan Sunmohir stood at his doorway, holding a wax-stamped envelope aloft.

  "Lucan, what the hell?" Kandar protested. "Couldn't you at least wait until sunrise?"

  "I am very sorry for the disturbance. I'll be on my way once I deliver this letter, but this needs to be received by her immediately. I was told not to delay. Is she still here?"

  "She is here," Samira said, stretching a hand to receive the letter. Her face blank, but Kandar senses a lot of simmering anger beneath the surface. "Just give it to me."

  Lucan gave her the letter. She slammed the door on him. There was the anger. She unfurled the letter.

  She went pale. Her posture went rigid, eyes not skimming the letter, but reading slowly with intent

  --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  ORDER OF THE TALON

  Office of Containment Oversight

  Grand Conclave Seal: VERIFIED

  To:

  Samira Akrafona

  Field Worldforger, Third Circle

  Bearer of the Crimson Mandate

  From:

  The Office of the Grand Masters

  By Authority of the Conclave

  Subject:

  Mandatory Post-Incident Debriefing — Azerlian Range Event

  Classification: INTERNAL / EYES ONLY

  Field Worldforger Akrafona,

  In response to irregularities recorded during the Azerlian Range Animiculus containment operation, you are hereby summoned to return to Facility Storm Fortress for formal debriefing and review.

  This debriefing concerns, but is not limited to, the following matters:

  Observed deviations in Animiculus behavioral response, including but not limited to:

  1) Accelerated mass accretion

  2) Apparent identity stabilization

  3) Resistance adaptation during cold-based containment

  Containment resolution methodology, specifically:

  1) Use of large-scale environmental alteration

  2) Long-term insulation outcomes

  Civilian proximity and involvement, including:

  1) The presence and actions of non-Order-registered individual Kandar Akassir

  2) Post-incident contact and association

  Post-operation conduct, including:

  1) Delay in redeployment

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  2) Current location and status

  This debriefing is not, at this time, a disciplinary inquiry.

  However, be advised that findings may necessitate:

  1) Temporary reassignment

  2) Adjusted operational oversight

  3) Doctrinal review participation

  You are to present yourself within seven (7) days of receipt of this notice.

  Until such time, you are instructed to:

  1) Refrain from independent field engagement

  2) Maintain discretion regarding the Azerlian incident

  3) Submit no external reports without prior approval

  This summons is issued under the seal of the Conclave.

  Failure to comply will be interpreted as abdication of mandate.

  Signed,

  Alivia Akrafona

  Grand Master

  Order of the Talon

  -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

  "Samira, something wrong?" Kandar noticed the change in her body language as she read the letter.

  "I am summoned for a debriefing for the Azerlian Animiculus incident. By the Order's grand masters."

  "Nothing you can't handle, right?"

  "One of them is my mom."

  "Oh." Kandar could only say. He understood then that this wasn't protection. It was proximity.

  ***********************************************************************************************

  The letter disappeared into Samira's satchel without ceremony. Just a single, precise motion, as if it were another piece of equipment she'd checked and secured.

  For a moment, neither of them spoke.

  The house had settled into a kind of careful quiet. Not the comfortable silence of early morning, but the sort that came after something had been moved and not put back yet. Kandar became acutely aware of small sounds—the soft creak of wood under his weight, the distant ticking of a clock he'd never noticed before. Birdsong he had filtered out unknowingly.

  Samira broke the silence first.

  "I'll need to leave before noon," she said. "Earlier, if transport cooperates."

  Just like that.

  Kandar blinked. "Today?"

  "Yes."

  She was already moving, crossing the room toward the guest bedroom. Her stride was unhurried, her posture straight. No hesitation. No visible strain.

  He followed more slowly, one hand unconsciously pressing against his bandaged chest.

  "Do you... usually get that much notice?" he asked, aiming for casual and missing by a mile.

  Samira paused just long enough to consider the question.

  "Sometimes more. Sometimes less." She opened her pack and began sorting its contents with practiced efficiency. "Seven days is generous."

  Generous.

  Kandar leaned against the doorframe, watching her pack. She laid items out in clean rows: tools first, then clothing, then smaller wrapped objects he recognized from the road. She didn't bring everything. Some things she set aside without a glance.

  The wool scarf she'd borrowed one cold night.

  The extra skewer she'd carved and never used.

  She left them on the bed.

  "How long do these... debriefings usually take?" he asked.

  Samira didn't look up. "Depends."

  "On what?"

  "On what they decide they need to know. Or want to know."

  That was not reassurance. It wasn't meant to be.

  She folded her robes carefully, smoothing the fabric as if wrinkles were a personal failing. Kandar searched her face for something—tension, anger, fear—but found only focus.

  "You don't seem surprised," he said quietly.

  "I'm not."

  That hurt more than he expected.

  She secured the last clasp on her satchel and finally turned to face him.

  "You're still hurt," she said. "Can you walk without pain in your ribs?"

  "I—yeah. Slowly."

  "Good. Don't push it. You'll heal worse if you do."

  There it was. Concern, delivered like instruction.

  He nodded, then hesitated.

  "Samira," he said. "That letter."

  She waited.

  "They... named me."

  "Yes."

  "What does that mean?" He forced himself to meet her eyes. "I mean—what happens when someone like me gets written down?"

  She didn't answer immediately.

  When she did, her voice was even.

  "It means you exist to them now."

  His stomach tightened. "That's it?"

  "For now."

  "For now," he echoed.

  She stepped closer and adjusted the strap of his sling without asking, fingers efficient and careful.

  "You didn't do anything wrong," she said. "But institutions don't record innocence. They record proximity."

  There it was again. That word.

  Proximity.

  "Should I be worried?" he asked.

  She considered that.

  "You should be aware," she said. "Worry doesn't help."

  Of course it didn't.

  She slung the satchel over her shoulder and looked around the room once more, as if committing the layout to memory—or discarding it.

  "I'll send word when I can," she said. Not a promise. A statement of intent.

  "Okay," Kandar said. It sounded small in his mouth.

  She reached the door, then stopped.

  "Don't take contracts alone for a while," she added. "And don't mention the Azerlian incident unless you're needed to. Don't even cash in your contract, at least not yet."

  "Required by who?"

  Her mouth twitched. "You'll know."

  She opened the door.

  "Samira," he said, before he could stop himself.

  She turned.

  "Be careful," he finished weakly.

  She studied him for a moment, then nodded once.

  "Always." She gave him one small smile.

  And then she was gone.

  The door closed with a soft, final sound.

  Kandar stood there longer than necessary, listening to the quiet reclaim the house.

  Only when it was undeniable—when there were no more footsteps, no movement, no presence—did he let himself sit down.

  The Order of the Talon had taken her.

  And it had their eyes on him.