Rafe couldn't stand.
Not properly.
The moment he tried to push himself up, a sharp pain tore through his chest, forcing a low gasp from his throat. His vision blurred, dark spots dancing at the edges.
Selene caught him immediately.
"Don't," she said firmly. "You'll collapse."
Rafe clenched his jaw and nodded, letting himself sink back against the tree trunk.
So this was the price.
Not death.Not loss of power.
Restriction.
His Light responded slower than before.His Shadow felt distant, muffled.And the third layer—
Silent. Completely sealed.
But the worst part wasn't the silence.
It was the pull.
Every time he focused inward, he felt it — a thin, invisible thread tugging gently toward Lyn. Not painful. Not forceful.
Constant.
Lyn noticed his expression and panicked.
"Rafe… did I— did I do something wrong?"
He shook his head immediately.
"No. You saved me."
"But—"
"You saved me," he repeated, firmer this time.
Her shoulders relaxed, though worry still clung to her eyes.
The Seer watched the exchange quietly.
"The anchor stabilized him," she said. "But it also redistributed the load. His body can't channel high-output mana anymore."
Mara scowled.
"So he's weaker."
"For now," the Seer replied. "If he pushes past his limit, the anchor will strain. If it snaps—"
Selene cut in sharply.
"Don't finish that sentence."
The Seer nodded once.
Rafe exhaled.
"Give me the rules," he said. "I need to know."
Selene hesitated, then spoke.
"Rule one: no large-scale spells. Not even Light."
Rafe nodded.
"Rule two," Selene continued, "no forced awakenings. No emotional surges."
Mara snorted.
"Good luck with that."
Selene shot her a look.
"And rule three," Selene said quietly, "if Lyn is hurt while you're channeling mana… the backlash could kill you both."
Silence slammed into the clearing.
Lyn froze.
Rafe's heart twisted painfully.
"…Then I won't fight near her," he said immediately.
Mara opened her mouth to argue.
Selene raised a hand.
"We'll adapt."
The Seer studied Rafe more closely.
"You didn't just survive," she said. "You changed trajectory. The Vestige marked you."
Rafe frowned.
"Marked how?"
She tapped her temple.
"Existential awareness. Certain beings will notice you now. Not the Commission. Not Hunters."
"Worse," Mara muttered.
"Yes," the Seer agreed.
Selene straightened.
"Then our priority doesn't change," she said. "We reach the Academy. Its wards will suppress higher-order perception."
Rafe nodded slowly.
"And you?" he asked the Seer. "Are you coming?"
The girl hesitated.
For the first time since they met, uncertainty crossed her face.
"If I stay with you," she said, "my guild will know. The Falcon Guild won't ignore this."
Mara crossed her arms.
"Sounds like a 'you' problem."
The Seer almost smiled.
"…You're loud too."
She looked at Rafe again.
"I can help you manage the seal. And I can warn you when things like that Traceborn get close."
Selene's eyes narrowed.
"And what do you want in return?"
The Seer answered honestly.
"To see what you become."
Rafe met her gaze.
"…Fair."
She exhaled slowly.
"Then I'll travel with you. At least until the Academy."
Selene nodded once.
"Stay out of our way and you're welcome."
Mara grumbled.
"Great. Another weird one."
Lyn offered the Seer a small, shy smile.
"Thank you… for helping."
The Seer blinked, surprised.
"…You're welcome."
A sudden chill passed through the forest.
Selene stiffened.
"They're moving again."
Rafe felt it too.
Not the Traceborn.
Something else.
Something searching.
Far away, beyond sight and sound.
The Seer closed her eyes briefly.
"The Commission retrieved the broken Traceborn's data."
Selene cursed under her breath.
"So they know."
"They know he didn't die," the Seer corrected. "And they know he made it retreat."
Rafe clenched his fists.
"What does that change?"
The Seer opened her eyes.
"It means you're no longer a specimen."
The air seemed heavier.
"…You're a threat."
The wind shifted sharply, blowing leaves across the clearing like scattered warnings.
Selene planted her staff into the earth.
"Then we move before they adjust."
Mara helped Rafe to his feet carefully.
"You better heal fast," she muttered. "I don't like running without punching back."
Rafe managed a faint smile.
"I'll adapt."
But as they started moving again, a faint ache pulsed deep in his chest — not pain, not fear.
A reminder.
The anchor was holding.
For now.
And far beyond the forest, in a place where laws bent and names were erased, something ancient lingered in silence.
Waiting.