The Domini saga

Kaelen strides into the public hall with the hunt order raised high, and every guard in sight turns to look. The polished stone throws his footsteps back at him in hard echoes.

Kynes walks at his side, with Bren close enough to strike if needed. Around them, clerks slow, soldiers stiffen, and whispers start to ripple outward.

He keeps the order visible as he passes the line of guards, making his choice public and hard to ignore.

At the far end, two officials exchange a glance and start toward a side arch. Kaelen has baited the room, and now the hunt begins to pull the conspiracy toward Kynes.

Kynes reaches outward with his mind and lets the hall answer back. Faces sharpen into a map of tension, the easy ones flat, the guilty ones loud in their pulse and breath.

Two guards near the side arch go rigid at once. One keeps touching the crest on his belt, the other will not meet Kaelen's eye.

A clerk by the benches flinches toward the exit, clutching a folded scrap marked with red wax. The same stolen guilt that clings to the hall clings to him.

At the arch, a sergeant snaps an order, and three guards start moving in a hard line toward Kynes, hands dropping to their weapons.

Kynes thrusts his will into the line of guards, and the air hardens around their legs and shoulders. Their boots skid in place, weapons still half-raised, bodies locked as if the hall itself has clenched its fist.

The advancing three jerk to a stop mid-stride, one knee bending against invisible force. A gauntleted hand claws at nothing, and the front man grits out a sound through his teeth as his line breaks without moving an inch.

The fleeing clerk freezes at the benches, red wax flashing in his fist. Behind him, the sergeant snaps another order, but the locked guards have turned the charge into a public snarl.

A murmur ripples through the hall as more officials retreat from the line of force. The hunt order hangs above the scene, and the corrupt guards now have to decide whether to break free, draw steel, or show their hand in front of everyone.

Kynes drives the command through the hall, and the force in the air drops like a hammer. The sergeant and his three guards buckle at once, boots scraping as their knees hit the floorboards.

Their weapons dip, not from obedience but from the sudden weight pinning them down. The red-waxed clerk recoils behind the benches as heads turn toward the kneeling line.

A few officials freeze mid-retreat. Others edge backward toward the side archway, suddenly careful not to be seen near the guards on their knees.

The clerk with the red wax drops the scrap and raises both hands, but the sergeant snarls through clenched teeth, still trying to hold his line together.

Kynes leaves the choice hanging in the public air, and the hall goes very still. The kneeling guards strain against the pressure, while the red-waxed scrap lies forgotten by the benches.

The sergeant swallows hard, the fight leaking out of his face. One official near the archway stops retreating and watches, trapped between fear and curiosity.

Kaelen lowers the hunt order to desk height, but keeps it visible like a blade laid flat. Bren shifts closer to Kynes, and the hall waits for the sergeant's answer.

The blade's glow makes the sergeant blanch. One guard stares at the floor, and another blurts the name of a river-side factor before the sergeant can stop him.

The confession lands like a dropped cup. A clerk by the archway goes pale, and the red-waxed scrap is kicked under a bench as someone steps back from it.

The sergeant shuts his eyes, then answers in a rush. He names two more office men, and says the hunt order was meant to pull Kynes into a side room for "processing."

Kaelen folds the hunt order once, slow and deliberate, while the hall's silence cracks around the words. The cost is immediate, too, the Soul-Cutter's heat singes Kynes's palm through the grip, sharp and stinging.