Kael was shoved forward, chains rattling against his wrists and ankles. The hall loomed cavernous and cold, banners of the Dominion hanging like silent judges above the tribunal's dais. Rows of officers lined the benches to either side. At the far end sat General Elric, his uniform as precise and sharp as the man himself, dark eyes unreadable. Beside him was Mareen, scribbling notes even now, spectacles catching the lamplight. Eryz stood near the steps, arms folded, jaw tight with disdain.
Daric marched beside Kael, but even he looked diminished, his usual booming certainty dulled. "Head up," he muttered. "Don't give them more reason to doubt."
A heavy staff struck the stone three times. The hall fell to silence.
"Bring forth the Dreadborn," Elric commanded.
Kael's heart twisted at the word. Dreadborn. As if he was no longer a boy from the outskirts who'd dreamed of proving himself — now just a thing, a weapon or a threat.
Two guards pushed him to his knees at the center. Chains bit deep. His squad was up in the gallery. Kael caught Ayla gripping the railing so hard her knuckles whitened. Lyren stood tense beside her. Even Garrick, normally all nervous jokes, looked pale and still.
"State your name and rank," Elric ordered.
"Kael… Kael Everhart. Recruit, Third Expeditionary Corps."
Mareen's pen scratched furiously. "Subject displays coherent thought, appropriate submission to authority. But unstable — records of the incident show uncontrolled slaughter of both Seethe and partial infrastructure. Civilian panic was narrowly avoided."
Eryz stepped forward. "Your records don't cover half of it. He tore through five Seethe by himself — then nearly turned on my men. If we hadn't intervened…"
Daric slammed a fist against his chestplate. "Permission to speak plainly, sir?"
Elric inclined his head.
"This boy saved half my squad when the rest of us were as good as dead. Without him, the breach at Hollow Street would've spilled into the inner ring. We'd be counting civilian corpses by the hundreds."
"And yet," Mareen said softly, "next time, he might not differentiate. If the corruption takes him fully — if that monstrous side of him decides it prefers us to the Seethe…" She looked up. Her eyes were almost pitying. "Can you guarantee his restraint, Captain Daric? Would you wager the lives of every soul in the Dominion on this boy's willpower alone?"
Daric's mouth opened. Closed. His throat worked. Finally he managed, "No. I can't promise that."
A low murmur rolled through the hall. Kael's pulse thundered in his ears. For the first time, he truly felt the weight of the chains — not just iron, but the full force of the Dominion's dread pressing down on him.
Elric steepled his fingers. "Kael Everhart . By the authority vested in me, you stand condemned by suspicion of becoming a threat equal to or greater than the Seethe themselves. However…" He paused. Even that breath seemed to stretch forever. "However, due to the testimony of Captain Daric and the tactical advantage your… abilities… might afford us, this tribunal is prepared to stay execution."
Kael sagged, breath shuddering from him. The relief was sharp, almost painful.
"But know this." Elric's voice dropped to a cold, surgical precision. "You will remain under constant watch. You will be assigned to Captain Daric's command under direct oversight from Captain Eryz. Any further uncontrolled manifestations — any indication that your loyalty to humanity falters — will result in immediate termination. No appeals. No mercy."
Kael swallowed. "I… I understand."
Mareen leaned back, writing once more. "Recommend quarterly examinations. Blood samples, mental assessments. Possibly staged exposure to the Seethe to monitor adaptive responses."
Eryz just grunted. "As long as I have leave to put him down the second he slips."
Daric flinched but didn't protest. Instead, he clapped a hand on Kael's shoulder, almost painfully firm. "Come on. Let's get you out of this hall."
---
As they escorted him out, Kael looked back once. Ayla gave him the faintest nod. Lyren's eyes were shining, maybe from tears, maybe fury. Garrick mouthed something Kael couldn't hear, but it looked like "Don't let them break you."
Kael stepped out of the tribunal hall into blinding daylight, half expecting to hear the clash of a blade behind him, to feel steel slip between his ribs. Instead, it was just Captain Daric's hand gripping his shoulder — heavy, steady, almost painfully firm.
"This doesn't mean you're free," Daric rumbled, as if trying to drive the point through Kael's skull. "It means you've bought us time. Don't waste it."
Kael nodded. The words didn't comfort him. They felt like a stone dropped into his gut, cold and heavy.
Outside the headquarters, the rest of the Third waited. Not in any official formation — more like a restless crowd, gathered to glimpse the monster who'd walked out of the tribunal alive. Some wouldn't meet Kael's gaze. Others stared too long, hands hovering close to their sword hilts.
And then he saw them — Ayla pushing forward, Lyren close behind, Nell half hidden by Garrick's broad shoulders. Toma stood a bit off to the side with Gin, arms crossed. They didn't cheer. They didn't rush him. They just waited, breaths held.
"Looks like they didn't carve you open after all," Garrick said, trying for humor. It fell flat.
Kael managed a rough smile. "Not yet."
Ayla stepped in and wrapped her arms around him, armor and all. He stiffened — terrified for a heartbeat that something inside him would wake up. But it didn't. It was just Ayla's warmth, her breath rough near his ear.
"You're still ours," she whispered. "Don't make me regret fighting for you."
Lyren rested a hand on Kael's shoulder. "She means don't die. Or worse."
Kael nodded, throat too tight to answer.
---
That night, the barracks felt wrong. Every lantern flickered too sharply, shadows curling at the edges of Kael's sight. Nell cleaned her blades on the bunk across from him, eyes flitting up every so often, like she couldn't help checking if he'd changed. Garrick tried to string together a bawdy story, voice cracking halfway through. Even Toma, who rarely spoke, seemed to be tracking Kael's every move.
Ayla finally broke the uneasy hush. "So what did they decide? Exactly."
Kael let out a long breath. "I live. Under watch. They're stationing Eryz and some of Mareen's people here. Regular checks, blood samples, the works. If I show signs of… losing it again, I'm done."
Gin shifted uncomfortably. "By 'done,' you mean…?"
"Dead," Kael finished simply.
A silence fell. Only the distant clatter of boots in the hallway filled the space. Then Lyren swore under his breath.
"Well," Garrick said, forcing a grin, "guess it's up to us to keep you sane, then."
Ayla leaned back against her bunk, eyes narrowing. "No. It's up to him. We'll help. But if you lose it again, Kael…" Her fingers tapped her dagger hilt. "You'd better hope the Dreadborn get to you before we have to."
Kael didn't flinch. "I know."
---
The next morning, drills resumed as if nothing had changed — except everything had. Captain Daric worked them twice as hard, putting Kael through endless sparring rotations. Mareen's aides watched from the sidelines, jotting down notes every time Kael grunted or faltered.
And Eryz was always there. Leaning against a post. Adjusting his gloves. Watching with those cold eyes that never missed a single tremor in Kael's hands.
When the drills ended, Kael slumped on a bench, sweat soaking his tunic. His muscles burned, and under it all was that deeper heat, coiled inside his bones. The thing that had woken to tear the Dreadborn apart. The thing that might not stop if it woke again.
Eryz stepped close, so quiet Kael hadn't even heard his boots. "You did well today," he said at last.
Kael looked up, startled. Praise from Eryz was unheard of.
Then the captain leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper that made the hair on Kael's neck rise. "But understand this: if you ever slip — even once — I won't hesitate. Not out of cruelty. Out of duty. If you become one of them, I'll end you before you can blink."
Kael met his eyes. "I wouldn't want it any other way."
Eryz studied him for a long moment. Then he straightened and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "Get your rest. Tomorrow's another hell."
---
That night, Kael lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Around him, his squad slept — Ayla's slow breathing, Lyren's quiet mutters, Garrick's soft snores. It should have felt like home.
Instead it felt like a temporary reprieve. A moment balanced on the edge of a blade.
Because sooner or later, he knew the power inside him would test its cage again. And when it did, it wouldn't be Elric or Mareen or even Eryz who suffered first. It would be them. The only family he had left.
Kael closed his eyes, willing sleep to come. But deep down, he feared the day he might wake up and find he'd already become what everyone else feared.