The girl never told me her real name.
She said names could be used against you if spoken through the Grid.
Instead, she told me to call her Ira.
It means "echo" in the old tongue.
---
Our training didn't begin with swords.
Or magic.
Or even movement.
> "Sit," Ira said.
I sat.
> "Close your eyes."
I closed them.
> "Now… stop existing."
I opened one eye. "What?"
She didn't laugh. "To see the Grid, you must become part of it. You are not Kael. You are not a boy. You are not anything."
Great. I'm being taught by a cryptic monk-girl.
But I tried.
I focused on nothing.
And then…
> Something blinked back.
A ripple.
A pulse.
Like someone gently plucked a string beneath my thoughts.
I gasped—but didn't open my eyes.
And there it was:
> Threads. Colors. Patterns.
Flowing like rivers in mid-air.
It was beautiful…
And terrifying.
Then I felt it—
A distortion.
Something wrong in the Grid.
I opened my eyes—
And Ira was already standing.
Eyes narrowed. Voice sharp:
> "Someone else just entered the weave."
> "And they're looking for you."