Genesis Rewrite

The room seemed to dim around the page.

Not because the light faded.

But because reality bent inward, folding itself around the words waiting inside the Codex.

Juno moved without thinking, blade in hand, stepping between Lyle and the green-eyed boy.

Kalen didn't flinch.

He simply crossed his arms and watched.

Like this moment had happened before.

And maybe… for him, it had.

---

Lyle didn't move. He stared at the Codex.

The page remained open, humming with eerie stillness.

> [Genesis Rewrite: Phase Zero]

Authorship: Lyle Greenbottle

Ink Signature Verified.

Memory Integrity: 78%

Warning: Reading will trigger memory convergence event.

Consequence: Irreversible perception shift.

Do you wish to proceed?

Lyle's breath caught.

He hadn't written this page.

He knew he hadn't.

And yet the Codex accepted it as his own.

Juno leaned close, voice low and taut. "You don't have to do this right now."

But Kalen spoke before Lyle could answer.

"If you don't look now," he said, "you'll still lose everything. Just… slower."

---

Asterion didn't say a word. He stood near the rear of the room, hands folded behind his back, watching with an intensity that could melt steel.

For all his usual stoicism, Lyle saw it clearly now:

Fear.

Not of Kalen.

Not of the Codex.

Of what Lyle might become if he turned that page.

---

Lyle reached down and closed the Codex.

The hum stopped.

The room brightened.

Kalen blinked, visibly surprised.

"You're not ready," he said.

Lyle looked him dead in the eyes. "I'm not stupid either."

Juno exhaled, relieved.

Asterion's jaw unclenched.

But Kalen?

He smiled.

Wider than before.

"Good," he said softly. "The last version of you opened it right away."

He turned his back and started walking toward the eastern arch of the Grand Vestibule.

"Let's see how long you survive without knowing why you're really here."

---

Lyle moved forward. "Stop."

Kalen did.

But he didn't turn around.

"Why now? Why reveal yourself?"

Kalen raised a single hand.

"The fracture has eyes now," he said. "And memories with claws."

He looked over his shoulder, just once.

"Some of them still remember what you were before the Codex chose you."

And then he vanished into the academy's inner halls.

---

The silence that followed was painful.

Juno lowered her blade.

Asterion spoke at last.

"That boy… He shouldn't exist. Not like that."

Lyle turned toward him. "Do you know what he is?"

Asterion hesitated. "I have… guesses."

"Any of them helpful?"

"No."

---

They returned to their quarters in silence.

Juno didn't go to her own room.

She followed Lyle inside his, closed the door, and activated the room's mana-proof seals.

Then she sat on the edge of his bed and pulled out her datapad.

"Something's wrong."

"Obviously," Lyle said, still staring at his Codex.

"No. I mean—with me."

She tapped the datapad.

Her Codex record appeared.

But it had changed.

There was a new entry.

One she didn't write.

One she hadn't even seen before today.

And it wasn't part of any official system training.

It was titled:

> [Threadlink: Heartbound – Subject: Lyle Greenbottle]

Status: Active

Origin: Untraceable

Effect: Emotional resonance between subjects may create passive shield synchronization, reflex co-casting, and enhanced glyph matching.

Risk: If either subject dies, the thread may collapse violently.

Lyle looked at her.

"Someone... bound us?"

Juno shook her head. "Without our knowledge."

And then she added something else.

"I didn't even know this kind of link was possible."

---

Lyle stood, pacing.

"We've been followed through threads. Attacked by echoes. Challenged by versions of ourselves. Now we've got strangers inserting rewrite threads into you."

He ran a hand through his hair.

"The Codex isn't just reflecting what we're doing. It's… editing it."

Juno stood as well, stepping in front of him.

"But why this link?"

Lyle didn't answer.

He couldn't.

Because the truth was forming, quietly, in the back of his mind.

And it sounded too much like the First Heir's final whisper.

> "You may be the last."

---

The next morning, everything changed again.

An alert blared across the entire campus.

But not a warning.

An announcement.

A new interdivision tournament was being held—five days early.

Mandatory attendance.

No opt-outs.

And for the first time in academy history, all observers were being invited.

Even those from the System Council.

Juno's jaw clenched.

"They're coming to see you."

Lyle didn't disagree.

He looked down at the Codex in his hands.

The page he'd refused to open still waited.

But now another one had formed beside it.

This one wasn't authored by him.

Or the system.

But by Kalen.

Its title?

> "The Last Trial Before Divergence."

And its first line was a question:

> "What happens if you fail in front of everyone who thought you were hope?"