Page 76 of Beyond the Fracture

He didn’t question how he knew. He simply moved.

He was out of bed in an instant, opening his chamber door and turning instinctively toward the city, following the piercing pull that had lodged itself in his bones—

And stopped.

Two Umbralyn blocked his path. Harlon removed his helm first. He was young compared to Caelith, and still eager. Time had not worn him down just yet. “You are confined,” he said. And there was no relish in it, which somehow made it worse.

Caelith did not move. “Harlon. Remove yourself from my path.”

“You know I cannot, Caelith. We are under orders.” Something almost apologetic ran across his face. “Your orders, once. Before.”

Before. Before he’d been so foolish. He’d built the very structure now closing around him - the rotations, the containment protocols, the quiet architecture of a faction that had once trusted his judgment above every Elder’s. He’d taught Harlon the very drill he now stood inside.

“That’s not what this is for,” Caelith said, low. Something in his voice made even Harlon take an involuntary step back, the old instinct of a soldier remembering exactly who Caelith had been to him.

Another tremor vibrated beneath the stone and he heard, or felt, the scream again, closer this time. Caelith’s control frayed at the edges.

He lunged, but they were ready. Containment magic flared into existence, his own design, slamming into place around him, invisible force driving him back a step. Two more Umbralyn appeared at his flank, then a third, all of them men he had trained, men who had once followed him into worse situations than this one without question.

He fought them without mercy; with a grief that outpaced the violence entirely. But it wasn’t enough. There were too many, and every one of them knew exactly how he moved, because he was the one who taught them to move that way.

They wanted to see if he would break. And break, he did, as he was forced back inside. Unable to act, unable to move to where he needed to be the most.

He paced his quarters like a caged animal, fists clenched, breath shallow, the Fracture’s pulse battering against his skull. Maia’s fear echoed through his subconscious like a dying note, distorted and unstable.

I told you to stay away.

Regret burned hotter than any pain he had ever endured. Why did he think that without his protection she would be safer?

He did not think of anything at all in those hours, other than how he was going to get out.

When the bells rang at midday, the containment ward around his door thinned. He moved without waiting for permission. He moved fast, reckless, a new fear unlocked inside him.

He went straight to her quarters, but they were empty. Her belongings untouched. The faint trace of her scent long faded.

Something was seriously wrong. He moved swiftly to the one place he had hoped, desperately, not to find her.

The healers’ wing was chaos disguised as calm. He searched around, fearing he would see her face, what state he might find her in, the terrifying thought that he could be too late.