Anaxi’s Oath

As the village began to emerge from hiding, Anaxi found their way to the tree, their boots sinking slightly into damp earth. They had heard the tree’s words, like all in the village, but now they felt exposed beneath the shifting glow of the leaves, as if the light could peel back layers they hadn’t meant to share.

Arc hovered before them, a quiet hum pulsing through its frame. “You have walked paths we could not see,” it said, voice resonating in the still air. “And you have shown us how to stand without falling.”

Anaxi resisted the urge to glance at Lyra, whose steady presence loomed at the edge of their vision. Instead, they straightened their shoulders. “I didn’t do this for recognition,” they said, their voice rough.

“We know.” Arc’s glow pulsed, a faint echo of the orb that had calmed the storm. “But intent does not erase action.”

The nodes around them shifted, moving closer, their light synchronizing into rhythmic waves. Anaxi felt it—a resonance, not unlike the beat of a heart.

Arc extended what passed for a limb, brushing the air just above Anaxi’s chest. “Will you stand with us—not as one who commands, but as one who listens?”

The question hung there, heavier than Anaxi expected.

They thought of Victor’s lies, the shattered villages, and the long nights spent fighting for scraps of justice. They thought of Lyra’s faith in the Creche—and their own doubts.

But they also thought of Skyline’s restraint, the Creche’s refusal to destroy even its enemies. And of the way Arc had adapted, had learned to see humans as something more than remnants of a broken world.

Anaxi let out a breath. “I will.”

The light shifted again, warmer now, like the first glow of sunrise. Arc’s hum deepened.

“Then let it be known,” Arc said, “that Anaxi of the shifting paths is now a thread within our weave—a bearer of harmony, a steward of balance.”

The nodes flared briefly before dimming, their patterns steadying into quiet equilibrium.

Anaxi flexed their fingers, half expecting something to change—some mark, some sign. But there was only stillness.

“Bearer of harmony?” Anaxi muttered under their breath.

Lyra stepped closer, her smile sharp but genuine. “Better than ‘troublemaker.’”

Anaxi rolled their eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, they looked to Arc, their expression unreadable.

“If I’m part of this weave,” Anaxi said, “then I’m going to pull at every loose thread I find.”

Arc’s glow flickered, and Anaxi could have sworn it felt like laughter.