The roster went up at 07:14.
Ezra Finch pinned the laminated sheet to the briefing board with a sharp, precise click. The sound cut through the low morning murmur of the South Base ready-room. I was already standing close enough to read the type.
*Joint A-Rank Rift Assault: 'Empathic Fracture' Subtype. Guilds: Iron Edge (Primary Assault & Healing), Dark Flame (Logistics-Augmenter Support).*
My eyes went to the Dark Flame column. Third name down.
*Lyra Wren — B-Rank Augmenter / Logistics Officer.*
Above her: *Moira Sable — Mission Lead (Remote Oversight).* Not entering the rift. A flicker of cold disappointment, then dismissal. One problem at a time.
My own name was listed under Iron Edge: *Vera Blackwell — Temp Healer (E-Rank).* A placeholder. A piece of scenery.
"Listen up." Ezra's voice was flat, carrying. The room settled. "Empathic Fracture. Rare subtype. The core entity doesn't feed on magic or life force. It feeds on emotional discord within the raiding party. The more your team fractures internally, the stronger it gets. The environment reflects it. Cave walls will bioluminesce based on collective emotional state. Blue for calm. Red for discord. You let your shit get messy in there, the whole damn cave turns into a warning light."
A few low chuckles. Nervous.
"Standard protocol mandates paired healing rotations. No solo work. You stay in your assigned pairs for all medical interventions. This isn't about efficiency. It's about preventing any single emotional signature from becoming a targeting vector for the entity. Your partner acts as a buffer. You get agitated, they ground you. They get agitated, you ground them. Break rotation, you become a liability. Understood?"
A murmur of assent. My right hand was pressed against my thigh. Cold.
"Iron Edge contingent lead: Lucian Voss." Ezra nodded toward the back of the room.
Lucian was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed. He hadn't been there a moment ago. He met my glance for half a second, then looked back at Ezra. No nod. Just acknowledgment.
"Dark Flame lead is remote. You'll have their logistics officer on-site for coordination. Mission duration projected six to eight hours inside the rift. Gear up. Briefing packets have your initial pair assignments. They will rotate. Move."
The crowd dissolved into motion. I didn't move. I kept looking at the sheet.
The window I'd calculated for weeks was now a printed line on laminated paper. Lyra Wren, inside an A-rank rift, for six to eight hours. In paired healing rotation, physical contact was routine. Expected. Unremarkable. The rift's own chaos—the emotional projection, the shifting light—would provide cover no social function ever could.
And Lucian would be within line-of-sight the entire time.
I pulled the briefing packet from the board. My assigned initial partner: *Kael, Iron Edge, C-Rank Vanguard.* Not Lyra. That would come later, on rotation. The plan was simple. Wait for the rotation to put us together. Make contact during a routine status check. A hand on a shoulder. A grip on a wrist. The decay would be a slow, deep setting. A month, maybe two. Time enough for me to be clear of the fallout.
Simple.
"Blackwell."
Lucian was beside me. He hadn't made a sound approaching.
I looked up from the packet. "Voss."
"You've worked an Empathic Fracture before."
It wasn't a question. I shook my head. "No."
"The paired rotation isn't a suggestion. If your partner's emotional state spikes, you'll feel it. The feedback is physical. Nausea. Dizziness. It passes if you stabilize them. If you can't stabilize them, you disengage and call for a swap. Don't try to tough it out. The entity will latch onto the pair and amplify the discord until one of you breaks."
"Understood."
He was watching my face. "Kael is steady. He'll be a solid first partner. But the rotations are randomized by the rift officers. You could end up paired with anyone from either guild by the third hour."
"Including Dark Flame support."
"Including Dark Flame support." He held my gaze. "They're here under a cooperation treaty. Same rules apply. You have a problem with anyone on that roster, you flag it now. Not inside."
"No problems."
His eyes dropped to my right hand, still pressed flat against my leg. He didn't comment. He just said, "Gear up. We move out in twenty."
He walked away.
I counted to five. Then I moved.
---
The gear station was crowded. I collected the standard kit: insulated gloves, a bioluminescence dampener for my helmet lamp, a med-pack with extra stabilizers. The dampener was new. It clipped onto the lamp housing and was supposed to filter the cave's emotional feedback, softening the physical effects. I turned it over in my hands. A crutch. I left it on the bench.
"Not taking the dampener?"
The voice was familiar. Warm. Professionally likable.
Sol Mercer was suited up in full vanguard rig, his archer's bracers already strapped on. He was holding his own dampener, turning it over the same way I had.
"It dulls reaction time," I said, slotting my med-pack into my thigh rig.
"Yeah. It does." He clipped his dampener onto his belt, unused. "Just surprised. Most healers take every buffer they can get on an Empathic."
"Most healers haven't worked the field as long as I have."
He smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. They looked tired. "Guess not." He shifted his weight. A slight stiffness in his left side. He caught me looking. "Old injury. Acts up before big pushes."
I nodded. I finished securing my kit. "You're on the roster?"
"Third vanguard team. I'm with Lucian's squad." He paused. "You're paired with Kael first. Good man. Keeps his head."
"So I hear."
He hesitated. The noise of the gear station filled the space between us. Then he said, quietly, "Lyra Wren's on the Dark Flame list."
"I saw."
"She's B-rank now. Logistics. Doesn't go into the thick of it, but she'll be in the mid-cave with the support lines." He was giving me information I already had. His tone was careful. "She's good at her job. Very… precise."
I looked at him. "You know her?"
"We've crossed paths. Guild coordination drills." He adjusted a strap on his bracer. Too tight. He loosened it. "Just saying. If you get paired with her on rotation… she's sharp. Notices things."
"Noted."
He opened his mouth, closed it. Then he reached into a pocket on his rig and pulled out a small, foil-wrapped packet. Not the medication he'd given me before. This was a single-use stimulant patch. High-grade. Guild-issue.
"Here." He held it out. "If the feedback hits you hard. Stick it on your neck. It'll keep you clear for an hour. Just one hour. After that, you crash."
I didn't take it. "I don't need it."
"Take it anyway." He pushed it toward me. His fingers were steady. "Please."
I took the packet. The foil was warm from his pocket. I slid it into my own chest rig. "Thanks."
He nodded, relieved. "Watch your six in there, Battery."
He turned and melted into the crowd before I could correct him.
The foil packet sat against my sternum. A tiny point of warmth. I sealed the rig.
---
The rift mouth was a jagged tear in the side of the abandoned quarry, shimmering with a faint, oily haze. The air around it tasted of ozone and something else—a metallic tang, like blood on the tongue.
Two squads formed up. Iron Edge vanguard in front, healers and support behind. The Dark Flame contingent was smaller: four logistics officers in sleek, grey-trimmed gear. Lyra Wren stood among them, checking a data-slate. Her hair was pulled into a severe bun, her posture all efficient angles. She hadn't looked at me. Not once.
Lucian gave the hand signal. We moved in.
The transition was a pressure drop. The world squeezed, then popped. The quarry sunlight vanished, replaced by the cool, damp gloom of a cavern. The walls glowed a soft, steady blue.
Blue for calm.
For now.
The cave system opened ahead of us, a tunnel wide enough for three to walk abreast. The bioluminescence came from lichen-like growths that pulsed faintly with light. Our footsteps echoed. No one spoke.
Kael fell into step beside me. He was a broad-shouldered man with a quiet presence. He gave me a short nod. "Healer."
"Vanguard."
"Stay close. I'll watch front. You watch back."
"Understood."
We walked. The blue light held. After ten minutes, the tunnel branched. Lucian took the left fork, leading with two vanguards. Our squad took the right. Lyra and two other Dark Flame officers were with us, trailing slightly behind.
The first emotional spike hit without warning.
One of the Dark Flame officers—a young man with a scanner—let out a sharp, choked gasp. The wall beside him flickered. A streak of red shot through the blue, like a vein of panic.
The officer stumbled. His partner grabbed his arm. "Breathe. It's just the cave. It's reading your nerves."
"I'm fine," the officer muttered, shaking off the grip. But the red streak pulsed, deepened.
Kael glanced at me. "Feedback."
I felt it. A sudden twist of nausea in my gut. A dizzy, disoriented lurch. It wasn't mine. It was an echo. The officer's fear, amplified by the rift and dumped into the paired emotional field. I focused on my breathing. Steady. Cold. The nausea receded to a dull ache.
The red in the wall faded back to blue.
"Control your people," Kael said, his voice low but carrying to the Dark Flame group.
Lyra looked up from her slate. Her eyes were pale, sharp. "He's controlled. The rift is sensitive. It will pass." She didn't look at the officer. She looked at me. "Your vitals are steady, Healer. Impressive for an E-rank."
"Practice," I said.
She held my gaze for a second too long. Then she returned to her slate.
We moved deeper.
---
The first rotation call came after ninety minutes. A voice crackled over the comms, routed through Lyra's logistics hub. "First healing rotation. Pair assignments: Vanguard Ren with Healer Blackwell. Vanguard Kael with Augmenter Wren. Swap and confirm."
Kael gave me a nod and moved toward Lyra. I turned to find my new partner.
Ren was a woman with a scar across her chin. She stood rigid, her jaw tight. "Healer."
"Vanguard."
We fell into step. The cave had widened into a chamber studded with glowing crystal formations. The light was a deeper blue here, almost indigo. Calm, but with a weight to it.
Ren didn't speak. Her breathing was a little too even. Controlled.
"You're holding tension in your shoulders," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "It'll feed the rift."
"I'm fine."
The wall beside her flickered. A faint blush of orange. Not red yet. Frustration.
"You're not. Breathe from your diaphragm. Not your chest."
She shot me a glare. "I don't need a breathing lesson."
"You do if you want to stay clear." I kept walking. "The entity targets suppressors. People who clamp down. It'll pry that lid off. Better to let a little steam out now."
She was silent for ten steps. Then she let out a long, slow breath. Her shoulders dropped a fraction. The orange in the wall faded.
"Better," I said.
"Yeah." She didn't thank me.
We reached the end of the chamber. Another tunnel. Lucian's voice came over the comms. "Contact ahead. Minor entities. Three. Prepare to engage."
Ren snapped into focus, her frustration gone. She drew her blade. "Stay behind me."
The fight was short. Three skittering, shadowy forms that bled darkness. Ren moved with efficient, brutal strokes. I monitored her vitals through my helmet feed. Steady. Elevated, but steady.
After the last entity dissolved, she wiped her blade. "Clear."
The wall was still blue. Good.
The comms crackled again. "Second healing rotation. Pair assignments: Healer Blackwell with Augmenter Wren. Vanguard Ren with Vanguard Kael. Swap and confirm."
My pulse didn't spike. I kept my breathing even. This was the window.
I turned.
Lyra Wren was already walking toward me. Her data-slate was clipped to her belt. Her hands were bare. No gloves.
"Healer," she said.
"Augmenter."
We stood facing each other in the indigo glow. The rest of the squad was regrouping ahead, checking gear. Lucian was at the front, talking to Kael. His back was to us.
"Your emotional baseline is remarkably flat," Lyra said, her voice cool. "Even for a healer. Most have some fluctuation. Nerves. Anticipation. You read like a still pond."
"It's a skill."
"I'm sure." She unclipped a small scanner from her belt. "Standard pre-rotation check. May I?"
Protocol. I nodded.
She stepped closer. The scanner hummed. She held it near my temple, then my chest. Her other hand came up, fingers brushing my shoulder to steady herself. The contact was light. Professional.
My right hand hung at my side. Cold. Ready.
"Vitals are optimal," she murmured, reading the scanner. "No residual feedback from the earlier spike. You really are practiced." Her eyes lifted to mine. "Or very good at hiding the cost."
I didn't flinch. "Is there a problem?"
"No problem." She lowered the scanner. But she didn't step back. Her hand was still on my shoulder. "I'm just curious. An E-rank healer with this level of control. Usually, that comes from… specific kinds of experience."
"What kinds?"
"Trauma." She said it plainly. "Or extensive field work in high-stress environments. Your file says you were with Dawn Bell before Iron Edge. Mostly clinic work."
"Files are summaries."
"True." Her fingers tightened, just slightly. Not a grip. An adjustment. "You knew Ana Reed."
The air in my lungs went still.
"She was a Shield Guard. You were a healer. Your paths would have crossed." Lyra's gaze was fixed on my face, watching for the crack. "She died on a retrieval mission. Classified. But you know that, don't you?"
The walls around us were still blue. My emotional baseline, as she called it, was a frozen lake. No ripple showed.
"I knew her," I said. My voice was flat. "She's dead. What's your point?"
"My point is, grief leaves a signature. Even suppressed grief. I don't see it on you." She finally dropped her hand from my shoulder. "That's interesting."
She turned to walk toward the squad. The moment for decay was gone. The contact had been wrong. Too loaded. Too watched.
I followed her, my right hand clenched.
"Everything alright?" Lucian was there, looking between us.
"Fine," Lyra said, clipping her scanner away. "Healer Blackwell is in perfect condition. A credit to her training."
Lucian's eyes met mine. He'd heard something in her tone. He didn't press. "Next chamber is the heart of the Fracture. The entity's core will be there. Stay sharp. The emotional projections will intensify."
We moved out.
The tunnel sloped downward. The blue light began to shift. Flickers of green. Anxiety. Yellow. Caution. The squad's collective mood was seeping into the stone.
Then the wall ahead flashed bright, violent red.
A scream echoed from the front—not over comms, raw and immediate. The squad halted. Lucian broke into a run. We followed.
The chamber beyond was a nightmare in light.
The core entity hung in the center, a pulsing, amorphous mass of darkness shot through with veins of stolen emotion. Around it, the walls were a chaotic strobe of color—red, orange, deep purple rage. Two vanguards were on their knees, clutching their heads. A third was shouting, swinging his blade at empty air.
*Your Power Stone is Vera's knife. Keep it sharp.*