The descent from the Weeping Basin was no longer a cautious retreat; it was a rhythmic, high-speed glide. Jaden had calculated the exact frequency of the wind and the density of the mist, weaving a Phase-Lapse veil around himself, Alyssa, and Miller. To any bystander, they would have appeared as nothing more than a trick of the light—a sudden chill in the air that vanished before the mind could register a shape.
For Alyssa, the sensation was disorienting. Through the Crimson Tether, she felt Jaden's consciousness expanding, his mind acting as a sonar that mapped every tree, every stone, and every heartbeat within a five-mile radius. But beneath that cold, analytical layer, she felt a new, jagged tension. Jaden wasn't just looking for enemies anymore; he was looking for flaws in the reality of the people they encountered.
"Stop," Jaden whispered.
They were perched on a moss-covered ridge overlooking the Silver-Stream Bridge, the primary gateway into the Heartland provinces. Below them, a standard border patrol—six men in the blue-and-silver tabards of the regional militia—stood guard.
"It's just a provincial patrol, Jaden," Miller whispered, his hand hovering near his old service blade. "We can slip past them without a sound."
"No," Jaden said, his violet eyes fixed on the man leading the group. "Look at the way he holds his spear. He's a veteran of the Southern Campaign. He served under me at the Siege of Oakhaven."
Jaden stepped out from behind the treeline, deliberately dropping the veil. The sudden appearance of a white-haired figure in the middle of the road caused the soldiers to scramble, their halberds leveling in a frantic mess.
"Halt! State your business!" the leader shouted, his voice cracking.
Jaden didn't move. He simply stared at him. "Arthur. July 14th. You lost two fingers to a Voros sapper, and I personally signed your commendation for bravery. Do you remember?"
The man, Arthur, froze. His eyes went wide, but not with recognition—with a terrifying, blank confusion. He looked at Jaden, then looked at the air beside Jaden, his brow furrowed in physical pain.
"I... I don't know that name," Arthur stammered, his hand going to his temple. "The hero of Oakhaven was... was Lord Valerius. He led the charge. The traitor Jaden was... he was the one who sold the maps."
"Look at me, Arthur," Jaden commanded. His voice held a low-frequency hum, a subtle application of Null-Calculation aimed at the man's auditory nerves. "Search the memory. Not the story they told you, but the memory of the blood on your own hands."
"Get back!" one of the other soldiers yelled, lunging forward with a spear.
Alyssa was faster. She blurred past Jaden, her red cloak snapping like a whip. She didn't draw her sword; she simply caught the spear shaft and twisted, using the soldier's own momentum to pin him to the ground.
Jaden reached out, his fingers hovering inches from Arthur's forehead. "I am going to subtract the 'Static,' Arthur. It's going to hurt."
A spark of violet light jumped from Jaden's fingertips. Arthur let out a strangled scream, his knees hitting the dirt. Inside the man's mind, Jaden saw the same black, oily film he had found in Miller—a Mental Graft. Jaden gripped the "Static" with his will and pulled.
The black film shattered. Arthur gasped, his eyes rolling back in his head, before he slumped forward into Jaden's arms.
"Jaden...?" Arthur whispered, his voice trembling with a sudden, overwhelming clarity. "Sir? You... you were dead. They said you burned the granaries. But I remember... I remember you carrying me out of the trench."
The other five soldiers watched in horror. They saw their leader weeping, clinging to the "Ghost" they had been told to hate.
"The seal is mass-produced," Jaden said, looking at Alyssa. "Whoever did this didn't just target the nobles. They targeted the survivors. Anyone who had a reason to love me had their memories rewritten."
Jaden turned to the other soldiers. He didn't attack them. "Go home," Jaden said. "Tell your families that the wind is changing. Tell them that the things they remember might not be their own."
Jaden walked back toward the woods, Alyssa's hand finding his in the dark. Through the tether, she felt his fury—not a hot, impulsive rage, but a cold, mathematical determination.
"They stole their lives, Alyssa," Jaden whispered. "They turned an entire nation into a lie."
"Then we'll give them the truth," she replied. "No matter how much it burns."