The Covenant called it Controlled Exposure.
Everyone else called it reckless.
Isaiah stood inside the Resonance Chamber with his palms open, breath measured, spine straight. The room was circular, walls layered with reactive sigils that dimmed and brightened like a living dashboard. Every surface was designed to listen.
Not amplify.
Not suppress.
Just listen.
"This is not about force," the Smiling Gentleman said from behind the glass. "It's about alignment."
Isaiah nodded, jaw tight.
Across the chamber, Kaveh leaned against the wall, arms folded. Two Wardens stood nearby, silent, alert. The Quiet King observed from the upper platform, unmoving.
"This is a soft launch," the Commander continued. "Low-stakes. No heroics. We trigger a memory, observe the DOMA response, and pull you out the second things spike."
Isaiah swallowed.
"And if it doesn't respond?"
The Smiling Gentleman smiled.
"Then we pivot strategy and circle back."
Corporate nonsense.
But Isaiah appreciated the calm delivery.
A low hum filled the chamber.
The floor warmed slightly beneath his feet.
"Focus on the exile," the Commander said. "Not the violence. The moment after."
Isaiah closed his eyes.
He saw it instantly.
The House Lion chamber.
The elders' faces carved from tradition and disappointment.
The silence after the verdict.
You are no longer ours.
Not anger.
Not fear.
Just removal.
His chest tightened.
The hum shifted.
The air thickened.
Kaveh straightened.
"DOMA response detected," a Warden said quietly.
Isaiah's breath slowed - instinctively this time. He didn't chase the feeling. He let it sit.
The pressure didn't explode.
It settled.
Like weight finding its center.
The chamber lights dimmed.
Then-
Something answered.
Not pain.
Not rage.
Recognition.
Isaiah felt it form behind his sternum, a gravity-like presence, dense and deliberate. The world seemed to... pause around it.
The sigils on the walls began to rearrange themselves.
The Quiet King leaned forward slightly.
The Smiling Gentleman's grin faded.
"That's new," he murmured.
Isaiah opened his eyes.
The air in front of him bent, not visually, but perceptually. Sound dulled. Motion slowed. Dust particles hung longer than they should have.
He raised his hand without thinking.
The space around his fingers stilled.
Not frozen.
Deferred.
"Shut it down," Kaveh said sharply.
Isaiah dropped his hand.
The pressure released instantly. The chamber exhaled.
Alarms did not sound.
That was worse.
The Smiling Gentleman pressed the intercom.
"Isaiah," he said carefully. "How do you feel?"
Isaiah scanned his body.
No pain.
No backlash.
"I feel..." he hesitated.
"Present."
The chamber doors opened.
Silence followed him out.
The Quiet King descended the platform.
"You did not project," he said.
"You did not suppress."
Isaiah frowned.
"Then what did I do?"
The Quiet King studied him for a long moment.
"You postponed," he said.
"You created emotional latency."
The room shifted.
"That's not a standard DOMA," a Warden said. "That's..."
"-Uncatalogued," the Quiet King finished.
The Smiling Gentleman whistled under his breath.
"Congrats," he said. "You just invented a problem."
Isaiah blinked.
"Is that bad?"
"It's disruptive," Kaveh replied.
"And disruption attracts attention."
As if on cue, the Covenant's external sensors chimed.
A projection flared to life.
Outer Ring.
Civilian district.
Distress signal.
"House skirmish," the Warden reported. "Minor. But escalating."
The Quiet King turned to Isaiah.
"Observation mission," he said. "You will not engage."
Isaiah nodded immediately.
"Good," the Smiling Gentleman said. "Because if you do, the Church, the Houses, and probably something uninvited will all notice."
Minutes later, Isaiah stood aboard a Covenant skimmer as it cut silently through the city layers. Below them, a street-level confrontation unfolded, House Hawk enforcers cornering a small group of unaligned civilians.
Property dispute.
Always was.
"Watch," Kaveh said beside him. "Don't absorb. Don't interfere."
Isaiah watched.
A woman shoved to the ground.
A child crying.
The familiar spike in his chest.
He inhaled slowly.
The pressure rose.
And this time, he didn't fight it.
He focused outward.
On the moment before harm.
The air around the skirmish shifted subtly.
Movements hesitated.
Shouts stuttered.
A Hawk enforcer blinked, confused, as if his intent had arrived a second too late.
"What the..." one of them muttered.
The delay was brief.
But it was enough.
Covenant Wardens dropped in, clean, efficient. The situation resolved without blood.
Isaiah staggered back, heart racing.
Kaveh grabbed his arm.
"Hey," he said. "You okay?"
Isaiah nodded slowly.
"I didn't stop them," he said.
"I just... gave the moment room."
Kaveh stared at him.
"That," he said quietly,
"terrifies the right people."
Back at the Covenant, the Quiet King listened to the report in silence.
Finally, he spoke.
"Your DOMA will be called Interstice," he said.
"The space between intent and outcome."
Isaiah absorbed the name.
Interstice.
The Smiling Gentleman leaned back, arms crossed.
"Yeah," he said. "The gods are absolutely going to hate that."
Isaiah looked out at the city - the Houses maneuvering, the Church watching, the Covenant calculating.
For the first time, his power didn't feel like a wound.
It felt like leverage.
And somewhere far beyond doctrine and memory,
something that thrived on inevitability
felt its grip loosen-
Just a little.