Kael watched the glowing dust drifting through the air.
Thousands of tiny stars spun gently around him, fading one by one like dying embers.
His empty gaze followed their slow disappearance.
He lowered his head and let out a long breath.
Behind him, Maria collapsed into tears, her hand clamped over her mouth to smother her sobs.
Connie, eyes red and trembling, stepped forward and laid a hand on his shoulder.
She, too, was crying — silently.
The doctor stood a few steps away, his voice still clinical but marked with sincere compassion.
“I'm sorry, Mr. Kael.
Your Trame has manifested.
Apparently that of a Fragmented.
But… there’s no clear diagnosis yet regarding the type.”
Kael slowly raised his eyes to him, disbelief tightening his features.
“Me? A Fragmented?”
He let out a bitter, humorless laugh.
“I must not be very good at it, doctor. I don’t have any mental disorders.
Well… unless feeling like I’m going insane counts, but I guess that’s just a footnote.”
His tone remained calm, almost detached.
But his eyes shifted toward Maria and Connie — both crushed, broken.
Kael’s throat tightened.
He didn’t need a mirror to know he had just become someone else in their eyes.
The doctor checked his notes again.
“The success rate for Trials is extremely low for citizens of the Broken Crown.
A Trial is unique to each individual — it reflects the Trame, the past, the flaws.
In rare cases, it can be harmless… but that’s unlikely.”
Kael stiffened.
“So you’re telling me I’m going to die?”
“I’m telling you,” the doctor replied evenly, “that you will have to face the Trial alone.
For a Fragmented Trame… the Trial is chaotic.
Unpredictable. Unguided.
You’re confronted with your fractures — everything you deny, everything you hate, everything you fear.”
He paused.
“You may see a vision, a place, a person… or a part of yourself.
But whatever form it takes… you become your own enemy.”
He inhaled slowly, as though weighing every word.
“And now, I will explain the only certainty regarding this Trial.
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Whatever happens, at the end… you will be given a choice.”
Kael barely lifted his head.
The doctor continued:
“The choice of Remanence… or Dissonance.”
Kael blinked, his face tightening with cold confusion.
“The choice of what, exactly?”
His voice cracked despite him.
He instinctively turned toward Maria and Connie, desperate for something human to hold on to.
But they couldn’t offer anything.
Both women knelt side by side, staring at him like one stares at a condemned man — with that silent pain that no longer needs words.
Kael felt something inside him fracture.
Not a physical pain — a bond breaking.
The doctor spoke again, lower, steadier:
“Remanence and Dissonance are the two possible evolutions of a Fragmented Trame.
That choice will determine what you become.”
He lifted his head.
“Do you understand, Mr. Kael?”
Kael nodded, his expression hardening.
A choked, joyless laugh escaped him.
“Understand? Yeah. Damn… what a shitty life.
I thought the Trial was just a story you tell kids to scare them.
Didn’t think it could really happen to me.”
His voice rose without his permission.
“You know what kills me, doctor?
It’s not dying.
It’s dying like this.
Without asking for anything, without betraying anyone, without taking a damn thing from anyone.”
He braced his fists against the mattress, trying to sit up.
“I worked. I shut my mouth. I did everything people told me to do.
And still, it’s always me this crap catches!
Always fate, always bad luck — always the hand of the sky crushing whoever it wants!”
His breath grew ragged.
“Even suffering takes luck, doesn’t it?
And I never had any.”
He tried to stand —
His legs buckled.
He collapsed to the floor, the air ripped from his lungs.
Maria screamed.
Connie rushed to him, but Kael’s chest seized violently, pain ripping through his ribs.
The doctor tried to hold him down as Kael’s back arched in a brutal spasm.
“Get out! Now!” the doctor shouted.
“Call the Veiled, hurry!”
The two women stumbled backward, terrified.
Connie dragged Maria by the arm, but Maria refused to leave, tears streaming down her face.
Outside the tent, through the thin canvas, they saw Kael’s silhouette convulsing —
His body bending in violent arcs, his cries smothered by the doctor’s frantic orders.
Then, suddenly—
Silence.
A cold silence.
Suspended.
Even the wind seemed to hold its breath.
Kael saw without seeing, heard without understanding.
Voices dissolved into warped echoes, as if underwater.
Fragments of sentences reached him:
“…his heart— it’s happening again!”
“…where are they?! Hurry!”
“…hold his head, quick!”
Everything blurred.
Shapes of light drifted across his vision — faces, ripples, fragments of water.
The ground vibrated beneath him, and in one last spasm, everything dissolved.
He slipped under.
Heavy footsteps rang outside.
Silhouettes approached.
When the tent flap lifted, the morning light revealed three Veiled.
Their long pale coats shimmered with an ethereal sheen, and their presence filled the tent with a soundless cold.
The doctor bowed slightly.
“Thank you for coming so quickly.
The manifestation occurred less than an hour ago.
The subject shows all signs of a Fragmented Trame.”
One of the Veiled nodded.
“Stabilization rate?”
“Zero,” the doctor answered.
“He convulsed twice. He must be transferred to the Institute immediately.”
Maria tried to protest, but Connie restrained her.
One of the Veiled knelt beside Kael and unfurled a translucent veil over his body.
A soft pulse of light rippled across it.
Without another word, they lifted him gently.
The veil vibrated, absorbing the morning light.
Maria collapsed, sobbing into Connie’s arms.
Kael, unconscious, barely managed to open his eyes for a second.
He saw the tent receding, blurred shapes around him…
And everything disappeared.
