It began, as most shifts now did, with Ash.
Not with a spike.
Not with a vision.
With a refusal.
He stood in the Academy courtyard under the old stone archway, sunlight cutting sharp angles across the ground. Other children were grouped in quiet clusters—some enhanced, some not—engaged in voluntary grounding exercises the Academy had integrated as standard practice.
Ash was not.
He stood apart.
Not withdrawn.
Not upset.
Simply… separate.
Headmaster Lira called me.
“He declined participation.”
“In what?”
“In collective stabilization practice.”
“That’s not mandatory.”
“No. But he has never opted out before.”
I arrived within the hour.
He met me halfway across the courtyard.
“I’m not leaning today,” he said calmly.
“Leaning?”
“Yes.”
“Toward what?”
“The hum.”
“Why?”
“I
