* * * * * * *

  Falling into the grasp of his new chair, he adjusted himself with bliss. He didn't know what heaven was— but this had to be close.

  "Not bad," he muttered, dragging his eyes over the chair like he was inspecting a grand monument. "Do you treat all your victims this nicely?"

  The man chuckled. "Got some humor on you, aye? The last kid nearly pissed himself when he saw the floor disappear. The mess was worse than the beast that came through."

  Tearing his focus away from the room, his eyes shifted seriously over to the man now seated across from him in an ivory chair, its cushion matching his own. The glass that had separated them was completely gone. Only the cell's stiff air remained.

  He was an imposing man of his early fifties, broad-shouldered and sharp in a double-breasted black suit, paired with a crisp white undershirt and a long black tie.

  A thick grey beard chiseled his face with long grey strands of hair falling beside it; the excess put up into a bun resting on top his head. His eyes—an unnaturally perfect blue that even the deepest seas would envy.

  If Ren hadn't known about awakened traits, he would have assumed they were made of glass.

  Stroking his beard, the man fixed his piercing gaze on Ren.

  "So… you are the most recently affected, unfortunate as it may be, I'm sure you know the odds aren't in your favor."

  He glanced down at the clipboard one of the officers had handed to him.

  "Seventh day since awakening, is it now? Meaning this will be your last before the trial."

  In his district, this was common knowledge, but he let the man speak; if this was the last conversation he'd have, at least it would be interesting.

  "While it's true awakened hold unique powers, some beyond imagination, it comes at a cost," the man said, leaning back into the ivory chair.

  "Every awakened must face a trial given by the Unraveling. Fail your trial, and your talent tears reality itself. You could destroy Lumora."

  'That was why he came to the Precinct.'

  "It is intriguing," he continued. "Someone with no lineage and training was able to last until the seventh day without answering the call. Most succumb in mere days. But, no matter how long it takes, outlasting the call is impossible. After the seventh day, whether you choose to take the trial or remain unawaken, the infection will have its way with you."

  The man paused for a moment, slipping the clipboard aside before continuing.

  "When you attempt the awakening, if you fail to meet the quality the test expects, you will perish. I do not know what you will be given, but there will be no second chances; you get one try. However,… you can refuse the trial. Choose not to answer the call, and you'll live, but not as you once were. You will become marked. Your talent will be stripped from your being alongside the trait you hold dearest. Whatever fate had in store for you will mean nothing."

  "Refusing the call tears at reality. Using what it stole from you, even the weakest awakener will call forth a beast… or, if your talent runs deep, a fracture large enough to burn a city to the ground can appear."

  "We have few ways of knowing your potential or what will be taken from you before the trial begins."

  While it was true he could have gone back to his normal life, the fear of what he would become weighed on him.

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  'Talent he could live without. He'd never been exceptional, and he wasn't about to pretend otherwise. But losing a piece of himself?'

  The thought was terrifying. Those marked cannot be called the same person they once were.

  The man continued, "This is why we assign a Reaper to every known awakening. Even you could tear a fracture into reality. Coming here… you did the right thing. Too many have died in the past because they refused to see reason."

  He didn't care much for people, but knowing he wouldn't leave the Outer District in flames made dying feel a little less pointless.

  "It's my job as your Reaper to give you as much information as I can before you face your trial.

  "With that out of the way, let's start."

  "I'm sure you know of lineages of awakened?"

  Ren nodded in agreement. The clans were impossible to ignore; they were the driving forces behind the seven cities.

  "Awakened are almost guaranteed to pass the disease to their children, but those who contract the Unraveling randomly are far more dangerous. Do you know why?"

  "Because, unlike lineage awakeners, those who randomly awaken have no training?"

  "Exactly. A plus. Even those born into lineages don't survive their trials unscathed. Without guidance, the risk grows exponentially."

  Seriously, what would he have to face for a child's own parents to train them from birth?

  Fearing the nature of his trial, he decided to make the most of his Reaper.

  "What exactly is the disease?"

  His gaze darkened, and he stared into the endless shimmering void.

  "We don't know," he said bluntly.

  Ren almost fell out of his chair.

  Even without the details, he knew enough: over 200 years ago, the world had nearly ended.

  Monsters beyond imagination tore through reality to walk the earth. And with them, ninety percent of humanity was wiped out in what the survivors called The Descendance.

  With humanity on the brink of extinction, seven colossal city-states were formed under a united government named The Cradle.

  The seven cities, the countless clans that ruled within them, and the Reapers—all of them existed to contain the threat of the Unraveling.

  But despite the countless efforts, how could there be no answers?

  The man sighed while glancing at his watch. "Ren, the history of the world is not what we Reapers are here to teach. Your trial is inside you. The Unraveling doesn't wait for you to understand. It creates a realm using your own subconscious to test you."

  He paused again before continuing to make sure he understood. "There is only so much I can tell you now; since your time is coming, Ren. The awakened have an innate sense for those who undergo the Unraveling, and I can sense the pull on your mind. If you have any more questions, we need to make it quick."

  A thousand questions raced through his mind, but he forced himself to settle on the one that mattered most. The trial he was about to face could very well kill him, and yet the thought of finally stepping out of the suffocating misery of the slums made his chest tighten with something that felt like hope.

  For the first time in his life, he had a way out.

  The slums. His misfortune. Everything.

  Swallowing the curiosity clawing at him, Ren picked out his answer. His dreams had to wait.

  "Before I die, do you have any advice that doesn't involve miracles?"

  The man couldn't hold back a loud chuckle, quickly collecting himself with a smile. "You really got some guts, don't you, kid. It might be the first time someone's been so casual with their life."

  He barked out a laugh, loud enough to make Ren flinch, before quickly collecting himself.

  "Brave or insane—I really can't tell what you are. But in the trial, you might need that to survive."

  Ren shrugged.

  "Guess you don't meet many people from the Outer District."

  Death was a common occurrence in his life; he never expected to live long anyway.

  Before the man could respond, a wave rippled within Ren's mind.

  Sensing the change in him, the man gave his answer.

  "My only advice for you is to be unreasonable. If asked to pass over a mountain, don't just climb—move the mountain itself. This is not just a survival test. It's how you can adapt and surpass the limitations set for you."

  As soon as the man finished, the wave in Ren's mind started to pull, spiraling as if a whirlpool had opened deep inside of him.

  Panic flooded his senses, but he forced himself to engrave the man's words into his mind.

  He could come to peace with walking straight into death, but he would give himself every chance to survive.

  The man gave a small, approving nod before his expression shifted into one of quiet pity.

  "My name's Leo," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "I'm starting to like you. Do your best to survive, Ren."

  Suddenly, the pull grew stronger; a storm raged on in his mind, dragging him ever further into the unknown. Whatever the trial was, it was coming—and soon.

  "I'm sorry, kid, but that's it for questions. You've got about fifteen seconds left."

  Ren stared at Leo one last time before closing his eyes.

  I'm so fucked.

  As the wave of anxiety washed over him, he began to drift away. He heard Leo's voice one last time.

  "Oh, and if you die, try not to embarrass me. I've been needing a souvenir, so at least send something interesting."

  ...

  He's insane.

  Completely insane.

  ...

  This was going to be a long day.