When he finished, he went down with greasy hands and his shirt soaked with sweat. The Hask twins were in the lobby, as always at that hour, eyes glued to a portable terminal streaming live. They didn't even notice when Kael descended, hands covered in grease.
"Kael!" Joren shouted as soon as he saw him, pointing at the screen. "You have to see this! A level 5 hunter just opened a portal in a Class Grave critical zone!"
"Spatial Field," added Kira without taking her eyes off the screen. "She saved fifty-three civilians in less than two minutes! Commentators are saying she could reach level 4 within a year if she keeps it up."
Kael stopped behind the sofa, still drying his hands on a rag.
The hunter on the screen looked about thirty, wearing the Eclipse Guild uniform, and had just materialized a glowing portal amid the chaos.
It was a rift in the air, wide enough for three people to pass at once.
With his new perception, Kael could see exactly what she was doing.
It wasn't a "true" portal in the mystical sense. It was a spatial fold.
She had connected two distant points—probably the critical zone and some safe refuge—compressing the space between them brutally.
Elegant. Efficient. And probably exhausting as hell.
I could learn to do that, he thought, and the idea sent a shiver of anticipation through him. Darling had said tomorrow they would start with basic folds.
"Do you think one day we could do something like that?" Joren asked, turning to look at him with that youthful admiration that always made Kael a little uncomfortable. "I mean, if we Awaken."
"If you Awaken, and depending on your Field, maybe. But that's level 5. It took her years to get there."
"When we Awaken," corrected Kira with her characteristic determination that made her impossible to argue with. "I'm sixteen. There are still nine years of window. Plenty of time."
"Nine years," Joren murmured, and something in his tone grew darker. "And after twenty-five… if nothing happens…"
He didn't finish the sentence. No one needed him to. Everyone knew what happened after twenty-five without Awakening. You officially became non-resonant. Like Marina. Like 82% of humanity. Like their parents had feared becoming before their own Awakenings arrived late, at twenty-three and twenty-four, respectively.
"Did you feel anything?" Kira asked suddenly, turning fully on the sofa to look at him. "Before Awakening, I mean. Any signs? Anything you noticed?"
Kael thought of the falling beam. That moment of panic when he reached out and felt space bend.
In the weeks before, when distances seemed… wrong, in ways he couldn't explain.
"Yes, there were signs. But subtle. Things that would have been easy to ignore or attribute to other causes."
"Like what?"
"Like feeling distances were off. That something that should be close felt far, or vice versa. Or knowing where objects were without looking directly." He shrugged. "But each Field has different signs. What I felt wouldn't be the same as what you'd feel if you Awakened in another Field."
The twins exchanged meaningful glances, clearly replaying their own recent experiences in their minds for any similar indications.
"If we Awakened," Joren said slowly, cautiously, as if afraid of the answer, "do you think we'd have a chance to get into Nova Astra?"
"Depends on several factors. You need to Awaken at least at level 8, which is the minimum they accept. And then there's the entrance exam, which has a fifteen percent mortality rate. One in seven people who enter doesn't come out alive."
Kira visibly paled. "Fifteen percent? Seriously?"
"Seriously." Kael didn't soften the information. They deserved the truth unfiltered. "This isn't a video game or a glamorous stream. It's real and dangerous. Critical zones kill people every day. Resonant beasts kill people. And sometimes your own power kills you if you don't understand it fast enough."
"But you're going, right?" Joren pressed, desperation creeping into his voice. "To Nova Astra. In a few days."
"Yes. The exam is in sixty-something days."
"What Field are you?" Kira asked, leaning forward with wide eyes.
Kael hesitated. Part of him wanted to keep it private. But these kids had admired him for years, asked him a thousand questions about Resonance while growing up. They deserved the truth.
"Spatial."
The silence was so complete that Kael could hear the electric hum of the terminal. Both twins looked at him as if he had just said he was the very Pillar Void in person.
"No way," Joren whispered, eyes so wide they seemed about to pop out. "Spatial Field? The one that literally only 0.3 percent of all Resonants have?"
"That's the one."
"That's…" Kira searched for words and apparently found none. "Incredible. And terrifying. And absolutely…"
"Lonely," Kael completed, recalling Darling's exact words. "It's the loneliest Field of them all."
"Can you already do things?" Joren asked, regaining some enthusiasm. "Like portals? Teleportation like that hunter?"
"I can barely move small objects, and it takes hours of intense concentration. I'm nothing like that hunter in the stream. She's been training for years."
"But you will be," Kira said with absolute certainty that brooked no contradiction. "If you're Spatial Field with that rarity, eventually you'll be incredible. Pure statistics."
Kael didn't answer. He didn't know how to explain that "incredible" came with a price. That every level up meant paying with pieces of your humanity.
"Hey, I need to ask a favor." He sat on the arm of the sofa, looking at both of them. "When I go to Nova Astra in a few days… I need you to take care of this place. Help Marina with whatever you can. Make sure Venik doesn't smoke every cigarette he finds in the lobby. Keep the place running."
The twins nodded solemnly, understanding that this was more than a casual request.
It was real responsibility.
"And if you Awaken while I'm gone, which I hope happens…" He smiled genuinely at them for the first time in the conversation. "I want you to let me know immediately. I care deeply to know which Fields end up being what. I have mental bets on that."
"Seriously?" Joren perked up. "What do you think we'll be?"
"I'm not telling and spoiling the surprise. But I have theories."
"Promise then," the twins said in unison, with that eerie synchronization they sometimes had. "We'll tell you as soon as it happens."
Kael got up, giving them one last look. These kids had grown up in this hotel as much as he had. They were, in a twisted way, like younger siblings. The thought of leaving them hurt more than he had anticipated.
That night, Marina cooked stew as she had every Thursday for as long as Kael could remember.
The communal room filled with the smell of slowly cooked meat and vegetables, mingled with the sound of overlapping conversations.
Mr. Grevik complained about the pipes even though Kael had fixed them that afternoon.
Dr. Ilena read a medical book in the corner, methodically ignoring all the noise.
The twins continued watching streams on their terminal, this time with the volume low so as not to disturb dinner.
Venik smoked near the open window, technically respecting the "no smoking indoors" rule while technically violating it.
It was a scene Kael had experienced hundreds of times.
Ordinary. Predictable. Human in its routine simplicity.
And for the first time since the Awakening, he felt true fear.
Not physical fear. Not fear of death or failure.
Fear of one day, sitting at a table like this, feeling nothing.
Of looking at these people and seeing only coordinates. Geometric obstacles. Noise interrupting his comprehension.
Fear of becoming that Resonant Venik had known.
The student Darling had lost.
Under the table, he gripped the coin. His anchor. His reminder that he was a person, not just a spatial observer.
I am still Kael Thorne. Not coordinates. Not geometry. A person.
But a small part of his mind whispered something different.
For now.
Marina served him stew. Said something about eating more.
Venik made a sarcastic comment about young people.
The twins asked if he could stay to watch a stream afterward.
And Kael agreed. He smiled. He participated.
But part of him was already observing from the outside.
Measuring distances.
Calculating geometries.
Feeling how the space between him and others was, imperceptibly, growing slightly wider.
He finished his dinner in silence.
Conversations continued around him, but no longer fully included him.
He still called this place home.
But slowly, inexorably, he began to feel that he had left it behind.
The coin in his pocket weighed heavier than ever.
The first price had been paid.
And he was just beginning to realize it.