The lights dipped a fraction, then steadied, as if unsure which instruction to follow. The low hum beneath the silence wavered, briefly losing its rhythm before settling into something less rigid.
The boy exhaled.
Not in fear.
In recognition and relief.
"…You're late," he said quietly.
"Circumstances changed," the voice replied.
This time it came softer, layered but restrained, as if filtered through multiple channels that didn't quite agree on timing.
Mara's heart pounded.
"Who is that?" she demanded.
The boy didn't answer her. His attention was fixed on the air itself, jaw tight.
"You said you wouldn't interfere directly," he said.
"I didn't," the voice replied. "I redirected."
The slate flickered.
DAY 120
Sequence 5
The text blurred, then stabilized again, like a system accepting a correction it didn't
understand.
Mara felt the keepsong warm sharply, not in warning this time—but in resonance. The pressure behind her eyes eased instead of tightening.
That terrified her more.
"You brought me here," Mara said, turning in place, trying to locate the source. "Both of you."
"No," the voice said gently. "You came because you were already out of alignment."
The boy winced. "You're being poetic. That's not helping."
"I'm simplifying."
"For who?" Mara snapped.
"For you," the voice said—and this time it felt closer. Not physically. Intentionally.
Mara swallowed. "You're not… with them."
"No," the voice said immediately. Too immediately. "If I were, you would be long gone"
The Nursery hummed, low and displeased.
The boy stepped half a pace toward Mara, lowering his voice. "It's not The Directorate. Not
Compliance. Think of it as… something that learned how to hide." "Hide from what?" Mara asked.
"The same thing you're hiding from," he replied.
The room shifted—not closing in, but hesitating. The chairs along the wall creaked softly, their positions adjusting by millimeters. The black slate pulsed once, uncertain.
"She's destabilizing the space," the voice said. "Not intentionally."
"That's her specialty," the boy muttered.
Mara clenched her fists. "Stop talking about me like I'm not here."
The voice paused.
"I'm sorry," it said.
That landed harder than any threat.
"You're allowed to be angry," it continued. "But you don't have time to stay confused."
Mara exclaimed sharply. "You're doing a terrible job explaining."
"I know."
The boy closed his eyes briefly. "You're scaring her."
"I'm trying to keep her alive," the voice replied.
The keepsong flared again—warm, steady, grounding. The hum in the room softened in response, as if something had stepped in front of a blade.
"Gray," the voice said—not as a title, not as an order. As a placeholder.
The boy stiffened. "You used it."
"I acknowledged it," the voice corrected. "There's a difference."
Mara's pulse raced. "What does that mean? "Gray"? Seriously? That's your name?"
"Ignore that. Now is not the time to discuss my "name". "
The Afterglow units flickered, then steadied.
The staircase door through which Mara had entered clicked—unlocked, but not open.
"You should leave," the voice said.
"Both of you. The Nursery is recalibrating."
"And what about Sene?" Mara asked immediately.
The room went very still.
"She is not gone," the voice said carefully. "But she is not… reachable. Not yet." Mara's breath shook.
"Then help me find her."
"I am," the voice replied. "This is me helping."
The boy grabbed Mara's wrist, urgent now.
"Mara, we have to move. Before this place decides to stop tolerating us."
"Just one more thing before you leave. Keep that peculiar keepsong you have close. It may help." The voice delivered these as parting words.
As they turned, the slate flickered one last time. The humming became louder.
DAY 120
Sequence 6
The Nursery did not protest immediately. It watched them go.