The floating script text said Joan Sawyer would be in her office at 06:00 burning sothing black.
Soren didn’t tell anyone that.
He got dressed at five-fifteen, told Grimm to stay, and walked to the Bureau wing.
He needed a reason to be there that wasn’t "I can read tomorrow’s events in the air."
So he picked the one Joan would actually buy: the Verath Seed.
Second site active, Bureau intel, she’d been running the data all week.
Showing up early to pressure her for an update was the kind of thing he did and she knew it.
◆◆◆◆
He knocked twice.
It was silent until the sound of sothing heavy being set down.
"It’s not six," Joan said.
"I want the updated coordinates of Verath."
Another silence. He heard the lock disengage.
She opened the door in her shirtsleeves, jacket thrown over the chair behind her, her hair still in yesterday’s knot.
The tal bin on her desk had two folders already gone to ash. Her right hand was behind her back.
"You’re early," she said.
"You’re burning sothing?"
She didn’t move from the doorway. "Bureau housekeeping."
"At five in the morning?"
"Files have expiration dates."
Soren looked at her right hand. She was still holding whatever was behind her.
He stepped forward without asking and she didn’t step back, which ant she’d made a calculation about letting him in.
He walked past her into the office. She let him.
The black folder was on the desk, half-tucked under a legal pad, silver text down the spine. The text was small and he had to step closer to read it.
PRIMORDIAL HEART BEARER REGISTRY — CONTINENTAL BUREAU — CLASSIFIED: TIER ONE
Soren went completely still.
"Kane."
"How many?" he said.
Joan closed the office door.
She didn’t answer imdiately. She went to her desk, set the folder flat on the surface, put her hand on top of it.
"Seven docunted cases," she said. "Going back two hundred and eighty years."
"Vesna’s file had three."
"Vesna had access to regional records but this is the continental archive." Joan looked at the folder under her hand. "Seven bearers. All confird Primordial Heart trait expressions, all docunted with full bond histories, rank progressions, tiline of activity."
"How many survived?"
She didn’t answer.
"Joan."
"None," she said. "Seven cases and seven erasures. The longest one lasted three months and four days."
Three months and four days. Vesna wrote three months.
The Bureau had the exact day count.
They’d been tracking closely enough to count the days, which ant they watched every bearer die and wrote it down and filed it under Tier One and kept it in a vault.
"Why are you burning it?"
Joan’s hand stayed flat on the folder. "Because you’re the eighth case and if this file exists in a Bureau archive, soone with Director-level access can pull it, read the precedent, and use it to argue that the most efficient outco for continental stability is letting the pattern complete itself."
Seven erasures. One more was just completing the dataset.
"Burn it or don’t," Soren said. "But I’m reading it first."
Joan looked at him for a long ti then she opened the folder.
◆◆◆◆
He read for twenty minutes while she stood at the window with her back to him, her arms crossed.
Seven cases.
Each one laid out in Bureau format: case number, date of trait expression, rank at ti of erasure, number of bonds ford, final recorded soul integrity percentage.
The last column in each row was labeled ERASURE THOD.
He didn’t read those cells.
What he read was the bond data.
Bearer three had ford four bonds before erasure, the highest count until Bearer seven, who had six. Bearer seven was the three-month case.
Six bonds, D-rank minus, soul integrity at forty-one percent at ti of erasure.
Soren was at E-rank with four active bonds and sixty-two percent soul integrity.
He closed the folder.
Joan turned from the window when she heard the cover close. She crossed the room and reached for it.
Her hand landed on his.
She didn’t jerk back and she didn’t look surprised at herself.
She looked at their hands on the folder with the expression she used when she was testing sothing.
"You’re ahead of every precedent in that file," she said. "Higher rank, better soul integrity and more ti."
"You’re telling this while your hand is on mine."
"I’m telling you this." She didn’t move her hand. "The hand is separate."
Soren looked at her hand, then at her face.
Joan Sawyer was in her forties, Bureau-trained, and had been running a soft manipulation on him since the day she arrived.
He knew it, and she knew he did.
The difference was she’d just tried to burn a file to keep him alive instead of letting the institutional logic erase him along with the other seven.
That wasn’t nothing.
He turned his hand over under hers rotating his palm upward so the contact was mutual instead of one-directional.
Joan’s expression didn’t change but her thumb moved once against his wrist.
"You should go," she said.
"I know." He didn’t move yet. "Are you burning it?"
Joan pulled her hand back, picked up the folder, held it over the tal bin.
"You already morized everything useful?" she said.
"You already know it."
She lit a match.
[DING! — Script Sight: pre-written event reached. Bearer registry destroyed. Data retained via mory. Author script deviation: none detected.]
The folder caught.
They stood in the sa office watching seven case files burn, and Joan didn’t look at him again until the last page was ash.
"The Verath coordinates are on the secondary drive," she said. "I’ll have them to you by eight."
Soren walked to the door.
"Kane?"
He stopped.
"Bearer seven had six bonds and didn’t make it." Her voice was flat the way it went when she was choosing her words for maximum efficiency. "You have four, so work faster."
He left without answering because there wasn’t an answer worth giving.
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