I awakened the END

Chapter 4: The Sentence

The storage building had a musty, old-grain odor and Ryn was curled up on a crate in the dark trying to breathe in without moving his ribs too much. Each breath was a price he had to pay. His Core ached like a bruise which never faded, a dull ache that sharpened each time he moved.

He tipped the last of his Marks into his palm and counted them. Barely enough for one meal. He had fought for these coins, and he had fought a life that had never done him any favors, and neither had brought him safety or peace.

He had thought the struggle would be over once he awakened, and he nearly laughed at himself. It had only made the hole he was falling into deeper.

Through the boarded window, voices drifted in. Low. Coordinated. Armored footsteps on gravel.

Ryn went still.

They'd found him.

Before he could finish the thought, he was moving toward the back door, one hand pressed to the wall to keep himself upright. He eased the door open an inch and found six soldiers already waiting on the far side of the alley, weapons drawn, torchlight glinting off their armor.

Dren stood in the middle of them, his hands behind his back, his expression unreadable.

“You should not run any more,” Dren said. "Not tonight."

Ryn's stomach dropped. There was no place to run and somewhere in the quietness of Dren's mind he knew that this time was different. No offer. No negotiation.

“I was trying to live,” Ryn said. “That's what I have always done.”

"Three officers were injured, their Concept-forged equipment was destroyed, and a district was evacuated." Dren's voice never changed. It was almost gentle. "Ryn, intent doesn't matter in what your Concept does. Only results do.”

With a sudden clarity, Ryn realized what he was to them. Not a person anymore. An imminent judgment.

A soldier stepped forward, a set of restraints clutched in his hand, grabbing at Ryn's wrist.

Panic answered before thought could. END surged.

The soldier's Concept died mid-activation, and his reinforced gauntlet went slack. Another soldier charged forward with a weapon raised, and END surged again. The attack simply stopped in midair, as if it had never been meant to fire.

Then again a third try. A fourth.

Ryn wasn't choosing it anymore. It was acting on its own, spreading farther than his hand could reach. The world slowed around him: dust hung suspended in the torchlight, a dropped blade froze halfway to the ground, a door swung open and stopped, as if time itself had thickened.

"Fall back!" The crackle of Dren's voice was sharp and new to Ryn. No command. Alarm.

Something tore in Ryn's chest. His breath caught, and blood dripped from his nose. His Core strained against a force he couldn't name, like a door bracing against a storm.

‘Wait,’ he implored silently. ‘Please stop.’

With a violent, wrenching effort, he forced it down. Dust was already down on the ground. The blade had frozen and clattered to stone. Suddenly, there was sound in the alley and Ryn's legs collapsed.

He hit the ground and didn't get back up.

The world was spinning out of control for several long seconds. Once his eyes focused, he was surrounded by boots, guns pointed at an overly tired body.

“Restrain him,” Dren said.

This time, Ryn didn't resist.

---

The tribunal chamber was cold and the faces were stone cold.

He was at the center, and the pain in his Core was a dull simmer, rather than a flaying sword in his fist, thanks to the restrained wrists of Ryn. The officials were seated in an arc of chairs above him, whispering in low voices.

One of them said, "—an Anomalous Concept. When it comes in contact with other concepts, does not show a stable pattern.”

"Unprecedented," another added. "And already uncontrollable."

Ryn looked forward and wouldn't let any emotion show on his face.

“Of course," the presiding official said, turning directly toward him, "you know the threat you pose with your Concept?”

“I didn't want it," Ryn said. “I didn't choose this.”

The official replied, "Power does not need your consent to be dangerous," but without malice, which made it even colder. "Only your existence."

The grumbles started again and Ryn knew he was not included in the discussion. He was only a target.

It was not long before they reached a verdict.

“By unanimous decision,” the presiding official said, "this tribunal finds the Anomalous Concept, called END, poses an unacceptable risk to public safety. The subject Ryn is sentenced to termination, effective immediately.”

The words fell out of place, far off, as though they were not his. Ryn had been prepared for pain and fear, for violent feelings in his chest. In place of this, it was all a still, shallow silence.

He turned his gaze to the side of the chamber and saw Dren watching him. Not smiling. Not satisfied. Just still, like a man resigned to something ugly.

“If you had surrendered earlier, before all this happened, things might have been different,” Dren said quietly.

"Would they have?" Ryn asked.

Dren gave no answer.

But Ryn knew, a Null never awakened something the world didn't understand, and just kept living with it. Not really. Not as soon as they had decided what he was.

---

The place of execution was set underground under the Vanguard's main building, made of smooth gray stone, with no windows and air that smelled like iron and old terror. He was marched down a long hallway, every door along the way sealed and humming with suppression fields.

They took him to a room that they had prepared for people such as him. Reinforced restraints, thick bands of dulled metal, locked around his wrists, and he pressed his Core into a tight, aching silence, like a hand clamped over his mouth.

The door shut with a solid, terminal bang.

Ryn was alone in the dark and he could see the cuffs on his hands.

‘This is how it ends’ he thought. ‘Not in the alley. Not in the street. Here. Quiet. Alone.’

There was something in his chest that beat.

He froze.

It was a hairline crack that bisected his left wrist like a blade of grass.

Ryn's breath caught. He was not responsible for anything. He hadn't even tried.

This was followed by another crack that responded to the first one, running down to his palm.

The chamber light flickered, then dimmed, unsteady and turned red.

A third crack. Then another one faster, this one put pressure on Ryn that did not ask his permission to be there.

Beyond the closed door, there was a crying out of alarms.

Ryn looked down at his trembling fingers and realized, with dawning horror, that the Vanguard had just locked something dangerous inside a box that couldn't hold it.