The Extra's Rise

Erebus set the three bone ampoules on Kade's steel table and opened a pocket that smelled like cold stone. "No flames," he said. "They like being seen."

"Distill," Kade said, pencil ready. No projector—paper and a blunt lead. He listens with his jaw, not his ears.

Erebus cracked the first ampoule. Not liquid—dust that refused to fall. He coaxed it through a narrow bone funnel into a shallow dish. Lines rose in the dust like breath across frost, then settled into a pattern: not a map. A behavior.

Rose leaned in. "Echo-seeding," she said. "It teaches the belt to remember the touch and want it again."

"Like a song you can't stop humming," Rachel murmured, unhappy.

Erebus opened the second. Same dust, different curve. It played with timing—rewarded the lattice when it answered quickly, punished it when it didn't.

"Training," Kade said, disgusted. "They're housebreaking our hum."

"Trying," I said.

The third dust drew a coil that looped back into itself. Stella climbed onto a chair she wasn't supposed to stand on and squinted. "If we give it the same note twice, it learns it," she said. "So stop giving it the same note twice."

Kade looked at her. "You have a schedule?"

She drew on the paper with a blunt marker, no apology. "Ugly sequence is our spacing. Layer a jitter on top—tiny delay wobble. Safe tolerances. Never repeats." She tapped three points. "Add hum-decay." A jagged line sloped down. "After any touch, the belt slides home, but home is never identical."

Kade wrote HUM–DECAY in big letters and circled it twice. "We can do that."

"Redeemer wash?" Rachel asked without waiting. "Dust the caches with a thin Purelight comb so residue can't set hooks."

"Yes," I said. "Every cache. Every node the Redeemers touch."

Erebus's fingers twitched. "Taste-wise, these are not Lysantra's hands," he said. "Skilled juniors. Proud. Sloppy in the pride."

"Good," Rose said. "Pride we can use."

Lyra had been quiet at the back of the room with Tiamat, listening. "You're correct about the research guild," she said. "The Demon Lord does not waste her attention on needles. Her labs do." She nodded once at Stella. "Your wobble will make them angry."

"Good," Stella said, grinning.

Elias patched courtesy to the five capitals as we wrote countermeasures: non-human echo-seeding detected; hum-decay and jitter layered; Redeemer wash standard; no change to belt integrity. Replies came slick and fast: South's tidy thanks; North's "Received, will mirror for sky lanes"; West's skull emoji and "nice petty"; East with a polite request to send an array pair to observe the wobble; Central asking if the jitter would upset any old tin we hadn't deorbited yet.

"Send Central a clean window," I told Elias. "We'll leave them a lane to push their antiques through."

We were still answering when the lattice underfoot changed flavor—not alarm, not panic, just… grit. A single node on the far-side crown noticed a breath that didn't belong, then stilled. Seraphina looked up like someone had called her name.

"Far side," she said. "Peary's shadow. One heartbeat, wrong key."

Kade's pencil stopped. "Not a filament?"

"No," Seraphina said. "Too round."

Erebus's head tilted. "A pre-bloom," he said. "A microgate feeling for its edge."

"We go," I said.

No one packed. There wasn't anything to pack. Reika's script bent angles; Cecilia wrapped our suits so dust forgot us; Rose thinned space where footsteps usually tell tales; Rachel clipped a second lantern to her belt; Vyr set her Guard thirty meters off without needing to be told. Kade stayed at Tycho to listen through paper and steel; the teeth slept until and unless he tapped the table.

We warped to Peary's lip and stepped into shadow that didn't care about day. The hum here is bone-deep and honest. The wrong thing felt like a pebble in a shoe.

We found it where Seraphina pointed: a pearl the size of a coin, black like wet stone, beating slow. It wasn't open. It wanted to be.

"Not here," Kade said in my ear. "No teeth. The ground behaves because you've been kind."

"Understood," I said.

"Let me try it my way," Luna said inside my head, bright and calm.

I drew Valeria an inch, not to cut, just to breathe. "Lucent Harmony," I whispered.

We laid it thin—me and Luna together—tranquility pressed like cool cloth on a fever. The pearl's pulse faltered. It didn't like being made to wait, but it didn't throw a fit either.

"Hold it," Rose said, already lifting two fingers. She folded the idea of the pearl's inside against itself. No drama. Just a seam that refused to open outward.

Reika sketched a character above the black: Refuse. The line didn't touch—just told the world what we wanted from it.

Rachel dusted a Purelight comb through the air. Anything that wanted to stick to us in the fight lost purchase.

The pearl shuddered. Then it sighed in a way only gates sigh, gave up, and collapsed inward. Erebus had the jar there before it could decide to be clever; the husk clicked into a bone ampoule like a bug into amber.

Something rattled inside the husk. Rose broke the ampoule seal with a lawyer's care and tipped out a clay token the size of her thumbnail. Scratches cut into it at odd angles. Even my eyes wanted to see a map where none existed.

"It's not a target," she said. "It's a vector preference. Testing which doors are easy, not what's worth visiting."

"Send the picture," I told Elias. "All five capitals. No panic. No press."

The Redeemers put a small lantern cache near the scar and tagged it with a mark only their eyes respect. Seraphina pressed her palm to the ground and listened. "No fractures," she said. "It hated being closed, but it didn't get angry."

"Good," I said. "We've had enough drama."

Kade's voice came back from Tycho, even. "Hum-decay holds. Jitter is invisible unless you stare. Your pearl didn't leave fingerprints."

"Then we move to the next phase," I said. "We've proven the jaw. Time to hand the watch to the world."

Tiamat looked at the collapsed pearl and then at me like she was measuring weight. "You pick your moments," she said.

"I try to pick the right ones," I said.

"Keep trying," she said, and the corner of her mouth moved.

We didn't return to the table. We walked the rim together and spoke the rules out loud so the stone could hear them too.