I breathe. I feel. I think. The three return slowly, like my body has to remember the correct order. My eyes lower with care. My wrists are chained. The metal is cold.

  I’m not dead. Shame. At least here, nothing depends on me, and the thought slides through my head with an unexpected softness. No decision to make. No trajectory to calculate. The chains decide for me and it’s almost comfortable.

  If évra captured me alive, then I’m with the government. They won’t kill me immediately. You don’t keep something alive if it’s useless. They’ll use me, probably watch me, maybe test my limits, but that isn’t my problem yet. Thinking farther doesn’t make me freer. I’m not in control anymore. So I save the energy and stay still as long as nothing forces me to move.

  Footsteps echo in the corridor. Slow. Even. My body straightens before I decide. My shoulders tense anyway.

  The silhouette stops in front of the cell. I keep them closed. It would be easy to stay in this forced quiet.

  But I want to know. I want to see.

  A girl stands in front of the cell. Thin glasses, small frame, perfectly calm. Her black hair is tied back neatly, not a strand out of place. Pale complexion, a few freckles softening her features. Gray shirt, long skirt, discreet loafers. Nothing useless. Nothing decorative. A book held tight to her chest like it’s the most important thing in the room. She nudges her glasses up with a finger before she speaks.

  “Hello. My name is Célia.”

  Her voice is gentle.

  She pauses.

  “My Mots is sealed.”

  Her gaze settles on me with almost medical precision.

  “I don’t know if you noticed, but I sealed your Mots. Well… only part of it. I want to understand how it feels to you.”

  I blink. My mind is still heavy, but one detail catches.

  She talks like I’m a mechanism.

  “I just woke up…”

  She frowns slightly. Not worry. Impatience.

  I search for words, then ask:

  “Do you… at least know what you sealed?”

  A second passes.

  Her face changes. The softness drops away.

  “Of course I know.”

  Her chin lifts a little.

  “It’s the most advanced sealing I’ve ever done.”

  She looks at me without flinching.

  “I sealed the infinite.”

  The word doesn’t move. She doesn’t blink.

  Sealed the infinite. I stay still. If she were lying, I’d already be dead. So… the infinite is me? Or inside me.

  My fingers tremble. I didn’t ask them to. The tremor stops. Then comes back, finer, almost discreet.

  But what is the infinite, exactly?

  The trembling grows. It isn’t cold. It’s just a vibration with no known cause.

  An anomaly.

  She doesn’t look away. She observes. Not naive fascination. She’s verifying.

  “Not entirely,” she adds calmly. “I restricted it. I built an internal structure to contain the infinite. Then I blocked its direct access to your soul.”

  Structure. Contain.

  “It’s still there. But you only receive a fraction.”

  A fraction.

  I don’t feel anything grand. Nothing crushing. Just a shifted emptiness.

  “It took me months. Dozens of attempts. Extreme precision. And now that you’re here… you’re proof it worked.”

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  Proof.

  Months.

  Months… for me?

  I swallow.

  How did she prepare?

  Did she know I existed?

  Or am I just a coincidence that arrived at the right time.

  Who is she, exactly?

  “Thank you for not letting me keep going.”

  The words come out without thought, like part of me already accepted that something needed to be stopped.

  I shake my head once.

  “But I don’t see how I can be useful to you.”

  Her eyes brighten again.

  “Go back into your Soul Definition. That inner world that wakes with your Mots. It must have changed.”

  The comfort of being chained cracks. I could stay here. Do nothing. But I want to know.

  “Okay. I’ll try.”

  I close my eyes. This time it isn’t exhaustion.

  The world disappears. I let myself slide inward. The Mots pulls me naturally. The sensation is familiar, almost pleasant. Still at the summit. The clouds aren’t uniform anymore. There’s an opening now.

  A blue ocean stretches in front of me, infinite, alive. It moves, breathes, pulses slowly, like a heart too vast for one body. The longer I stare, the shorter my breath gets, bit by bit, like the air is thickening around my chest.

  Nothing hurts, and yet a pressure settles in—enough to remind me something here is bigger than what a body can hold.

  I shift one step without meaning to. My gaze snaps back anyway, pulled. Looking away takes real effort. I could give in at any moment.

  The surface imitates water. It’s pure energy, concentrated, unstable. It’s mine… normally. I stop staring. My heart keeps speeding up.

  Between me and that ocean stand seven doors, set in an arc across the mountain. The hierarchy is absolute: each one is more massive than the last. The seventh dominates everything.

  I shouldn’t look at it. It doesn’t feel built to be opened by a human body. Its size crushes the space around it. Staring for more than a second feels like being drawn in.

  If it gives… I give with it.

  The gold isn’t decoration. Unknown symbols are carved deep into every surface with inhuman precision. I don’t understand them. My mind accepts them too easily. Why do I accept them so fast? Each symbol locks something. Or locks me.

  Six doors are shut, sealed tight. Looking too long makes pressure build behind my eyes.

  The first is ajar. A narrow slit lets out a thin stream of blue energy. Seeing it tightens my sternum slightly. The flow runs down the mountain.

  It’s little. And it’s already too much.

  Below the doors are seven valleys. In the heart of each valley sits a lake.

  The first lake is filled. Just enough to glow softly. The energy is dense. Manageable.

  The surface shivers. I didn’t do anything. The lake ripples… inward. The energy vanishes. For one second, I don’t feel it. My heart misses a beat. Not the energy. Me.

  Silence. Total.

  Then everything comes back. The lake stabilizes. I don’t check the rest.

  I should look away.

  …

  I don’t.

  The other six lakes are empty. Ready to be filled. Luckily, I have no idea how to unlock them.

  …

  Luckily.

  I’ve seen enough. I look away. She’s still there.

  The chains vibrate slightly. I didn’t move. I clench my teeth until my jaw complains.

  Célia watches me with an attention that almost devours. It calms me. I tell her everything. Every detail. Every sensation. She opens her book immediately and scribbles like her hand can’t keep up.

  “A sea… an ocean. A bottomless structure…”

  She murmurs the words more to herself than to me.

  “The lakes…”

  She writes.

  “… match the ranks.”

  She lifts her eyes.

  “Each door is a threshold.”

  I clear my throat to pull her back to me.

  “And me, now? I’m not going to be executed, I assume.”

  She blinks, like my voice yanks her out of somewhere else.

  “Ah. No.”

  Then she adds, calm:

  “You have to pass an evaluation. Prove you’re worthy of your Mots.”

  She closes her book with a measured motion, then looks up.

  “By the way… what’s your name?”

  A second passes. I hold her gaze.

  “Heyo.”

  She nods. Then she opens the cell and removes the chains. No fear in her eyes. And she knows what I am. She isn’t weighing me like a threat or merchandise.

  I realize it without deciding.

  She’s the first person my body doesn’t tighten around on instinct.

  She writes. She doesn’t step back.

  I still don’t trust her. But for the first time in a long time… I don’t feel alone.

  We walk through a long corridor of dark stone, ancient but intact. An arch lets light spill in at the end. I stop dead.

  A massive coliseum opens in front of me, circular, silent, crushing.

  Célia stays a few steps behind.

  “Go to the center.”

  She looks at me one last time.

  “And do your best to survive.”

  A tired smile comes to me without permission.

  “Thank you… for everything.”

  She doesn’t answer. Her silhouette melts into the corridor’s shadow. In seconds, I’m alone.

  The silence drops too fast. My stomach tightens. Not pain. Just a dull tension, like before a jump.

  The sand is dark and heavy, almost black. It absorbs what falls on it. Blood. Impacts. I know without seeing. Reinforced layers beneath. The floor was built to take hits.

  My shoulders are too rigid. I force them to loosen.

  The walls rise all around. Black material, smooth, cold. No grip. No visible flaw. A wall made to resist extreme force.

  Not to protect the outside.

  To contain what’s inside.

  My heart speeds up. This isn’t an arena. It’s a vessel. A chill crawls up my spine.

  And what if they want me to overflow?

  I take one step.

  My heart slows.