Unbinding the Cuffs

The tension did not fade. Not completely. But it shifted. Softened at the edges. Warped into something heavier, quieter. Everyone had spread out now, claiming whatever space felt safe enough within the strange cathedral of living stone and twisted energy. Riven leaned against a pillar, arms crossed, chewing the corner of his glove like he wanted to bite through the tension itself. Sethis sprawled lazily across a semi-floating platform that drifted a few feet off the ground, looking like he was relaxed but watching everything. Kaine sat farthest from Mae, legs wide, elbows on knees, his glare heavy but quieter than before. Lucien paced in a slow, measured loop around the perimeter, hands clasped behind his back, like a predator in a cage pretending he wasn’t sizing up every shadow.

And then there was Ashar. Sitting, no, occupying, the center of the space. His throne wasn’t a throne, not really, but it fit him all the same. Black hair draped over one shoulder, crystalline eyes duller now, calculating. His hands rested on his knees, fingers flexing occasionally like he was testing the air for fractures only he could sense. And Mae, Mae sat on the lowest step of the platform, knees tucked toward her chest, wrists still bound but loosely now. Ashar’s voice finally broke the silence, low and absolute.

“I’ll remove them.” His gaze pinned her. “But you’re going to talk.” A pause. The others stiffened slightly, even Kaine. “Tell us.” His tone wasn’t cruel, but it was non-negotiable. “When you first noticed... things weren’t normal. Your... ‘bad luck.’” His gaze sharpened at the words. “All of it. Start there.” Mae’s lips parted, then shut. Her throat burned. She hated how small her voice felt before it ever left her lungs. If I talk... if I really talk... what happens? She glanced at each of them. None looked away. None softened. But no one left either.

Slowly, she shifted her cuffed hands onto her lap, fingers lacing together. “It started when I was a kid. I did not think it was anything, not like this.” Her breath trembled, but not her voice. Not yet. “I used to call it, bad luck.” Riven snorted softly from his corner but did not interrupt. “Things just happened. Things broke when I touched them. Lights flickered. Machines failed. People always got hurt when they were too close.” Her eyes dropped to her hands. “Accidents, or that's what I thought they were.” 

“The Wastes are cruel,” she continued, voice tighter. “Stuff breaks all the time. People vanish. I did not think it was me.” A bitter laugh escaped her lips. “Why would I? I was just a stray. Another nobody left to rot in Zone 9.” Lucien’s pacing slowed. Ashar’s gaze never wavered. Mae swallowed. Her hands clenched. “But it got worse. The older I got, the heavier it felt. Like the things around me started cracking and I didn’t know how to stop it. I couldn’t touch electronics without them glitching. Couldn’t stand too close to power grids without things frying.” Her shoulders curled in. “People started noticing.”

The hum of the place deepened, like the walls themselves listened. “Zone 9...” Her throat tightened. “That’s where it got bad. Bad enough the Council sent enforcement. But no one knows what really happened there. Only me and the Council.” The others leaned in slightly. Even Kaine’s scowl deepened into something more, attentive. Ashar’s voice dropped lower, like a predator urging prey closer to its own confession.

“Tell us.” Mae’s lips trembled, her jaw clenching. “The Council claimed it was a reactor malfunction. Collapsed the whole sector. Thousands gone.” Her eyes burned, but no tears fell. Not here. Not in front of them.

“But it wasn’t the reactor. It was me.” Silence snapped tight, like strings pulled to breaking. “I don’t know how. I don’t know what I did. But the enforcers came. They cornered me. Scanners said ‘unauthorized magic DNA.’” She spat the words bitterly. “They didn’t call it anything else. They didn’t know what else to call it. They just, opened fire. I was just trying to run.” Her breathing hitched, hands curling tighter against the cuffs. “And the ground split. The walls folded in. Everything just broke.  People, machines, space itself. I didn’t even mean to. I don’t know how it happened. But I ran. I ran, and when I looked back, the entire sector was gone.”

Her voice collapsed to a whisper. “They covered it up. Blamed the grid. Hid what I did. Put a bounty on me and locked me in the system as contaminated, defective, trash.”

Silence. The energy in the room felt, wrong now. Heavy. Warped. The air shimmered faintly around her, the very walls of Ashar’s home reacting like they could feel the shape of her words, like it remembered. Ashar’s eyes darkened, crystalline glow pulsing low, deep, unreadable. His fingers flexed once. Twice. Then slowly, he stood.

The others stiffened but didn’t speak. Didn’t dare.

Ashar descended the steps, slow, deliberate, until he stood directly in front of her.

His hands hovered over her wrists. Long fingers brushed the cuffs, and with a shimmer of fractured light, they disengaged. The metal fell with a dull clink onto the strange, glass-like floor. Ashar didn’t step back. Didn’t speak. He simply stood there. Close. Unmoving. Watching. Looking. Like whatever puzzle she was, just became far more complicated than even he was ready for.