The universe guided Aethon this time.
Not forcibly.
Not gently.
Precisely.
The vessel decelerated near a region of space that appeared unremarkable—no stars, no dust, no gravitational irregularities. To any conventional observer, it was emptiness.
To Aethon, it was occupied.
He stepped out.
Immediately, he felt it.
Another anchor.
---
The figure stood several units away, suspended in nothingness. Humanoid in silhouette, but wrong in execution. Its form shimmered between states—sometimes solid, sometimes conceptual, as though reality could not decide how to represent it.
Unlike Aethon, it did not stabilize automatically.
It endured.
"You're late," the figure said.
Its voice carried weariness rather than authority.
Aethon studied it carefully.
"You're not a Watcher," he said.
"No," the figure replied. "And not an Enforcer."
A pause.
"I'm a mistake."
---
Aethon did not respond immediately.
Mistakes, in a universe governed by enforcement, rarely survived long.
"Name," Aethon finally said.
The figure tilted its head.
"I don't remember the first one," it answered. "But the last was Seris."
An anchor, then.
Aethon felt the resonance clearly now. Seris was bound to existence the same way he was—but not in balance.
"Your permissions are fractured," Aethon observed.
Seris laughed quietly.
"That's one way to put it."
---
They drifted together, maintaining distance out of instinct rather than caution.
"I was assigned," Seris said.
"A region. A function. Just like they intend for you."
"And you refused," Aethon replied.
"I complied," Seris corrected.
"For a while."
The space around Seris warped slightly.
"I stabilized a collapsing continuum. Held it together for… too long."
Aethon understood.
Anchors were not meant to care.
Attachment introduced variance.
"What happened?" Aethon asked.
Seris looked away.
"They reclassified me," Seris said.
"From anchor… to anomaly."
---
The word carried weight.
Anomalies were not constrained.
They were resolved.
"You're still here," Aethon said.
Seris nodded.
"Because resolving me would destabilize what I'm holding."
Aethon's gaze sharpened.
"You're anchoring something the Enforcer cannot replace."
Seris smiled faintly.
"Now you see the problem."
---
Silence settled between them.
Not empty.
Reflective.
"So," Seris said at last, "they finally noticed you."
Aethon inclined his head.
"I accessed a Forbidden Record."
Seris winced.
"Of course you did."
"Observers are scaffolding," Aethon continued.
"The Enforcer maintains tension."
Seris stared at him.
"…You saw it."
"Yes."
Seris exhaled slowly.
"Then you understand why they won't let you wander anymore."
Aethon did not deny it.
"What are you doing here?" Seris asked.
Aethon answered honestly.
"Learning how much resistance the system tolerates."
Seris laughed again—this time bitter.
"Careful. That curiosity is how you become indispensable."
---
A tremor rippled through the void.
Not space.
Notification.
Both anchors felt it.
Aethon straightened.
"They're recalculating," he said.
Seris nodded.
"They do that when two variables converge."
The void dimmed as procedural layers aligned. Not an attack. A lock-in.
Seris's form flickered violently.
"Looks like my margin just dropped," Seris said calmly.
Aethon stepped forward.
"I can help stabilize you," he said.
Seris met his gaze.
"You already are," Seris replied.
"By being here."
Aethon froze.
Understanding clicked into place.
Two anchors in proximity amplified variance.
To the Enforcer, that was unacceptable.
Seris smiled sadly.
"So this is where we diverge," Seris said.
"Or where you learn the real rule."
Aethon's expression hardened.
"And what rule is that?"
Seris's voice softened.
"Immortality doesn't make you free."
The void brightened sharply.
Resolution protocols initiated.
Seris began to unravel—not erased, but simplified.
Aethon reacted instantly.
He anchored.
Hard.
Against procedure.
The universe resisted.
And somewhere deep within enforcement logic, a threshold was crossed.
---