Chapter Two – The Silence in His Glyph
Part Eight – Buta Intercepts
Date: Maelis 27, Year 204 PCR
Location: Doctrine Tower Annex – Recovery Wing, Ruptured Ward 7
Time: 11:22 Veil Standard
The walls were still vibrating.
Not from explosion.
From memory residue.
The glyph had re-entered Zephryn's body, but it hadn't sealed. Its last pulse echoed like a heartbeat through the floor—a hum that refused to be silenced.
Zephryn lay unconscious in Selka's arms, skin flushed, breathing thin but steady. His pulse signature was unstable—alive, but untrackable.
He was not asleep.
He was remembering.
—
Selka didn't notice the footsteps right away.
But Kaelen did.
He stepped into the ward's threshold as three Doctrine officers entered, robed in deep sigil-red, lined with Veilburn compliance threads.
Their leader spoke without emotion:
"Step away from the subject."
Selka didn't move.
"He's not a subject."
The lead officer raised his hand.
Glyph thread glowed at the palm.
"This is not a negotiation."
—
And then—
Buta entered.
His presence hit harder than the pulse did.
No words.
Just weight.
The officers turned immediately, every single one of them going rigid.
They recognized him.
But they didn't bow.
No one bows to Buta Yuki.
Because if you know his name, you already know better.
—
He walked forward.
Calm.
Measured.
Chain-shaped Veilmark still glowing down his arm, but now beginning to fade.
He stopped between Zephryn and the officers.
Kaelen stepped beside him. Yolti too.
But Buta didn't speak to them.
His voice was aimed at Doctrine.
Low. Final.
"If you touch him, I'll break your humline at the spine."
The lead officer didn't flinch.
But his glyph dimmed slightly.
"His mark is uncontained."
"Because you tried to suppress what you couldn't comprehend," Buta snapped.
Another officer tried to speak.
"Sir, his pulse pattern destabilized the entire annex—"
Buta's eyes snapped to him.
"And where was your containment team when Thrynn breached Caervale?"
Silence.
—
He pointed down at Zephryn.
"That boy fought a Choir-bred Dirgecaster while carrying a glyph older than your entire suppression archive, and you're worried he fainted?"
"Protocol—"
"Protocol gets you killed."
—
Buta stepped forward now, just once.
Selka gently placed Zephryn down and rose behind him.
"You want to study him?" Buta said.
"Then I'll bring him to the Lyceum."
"And if Doctrine resists that?"
Buta didn't raise his voice.
Didn't flare his glyph.
He just said:
"Try."
—
A pause.
Long.
One officer took a step back.
The lead sighed—then slowly deactivated his glyph.
"…He's yours."
"Always was."
Doctrine filed out.
Quickly.
Efficiently.
Without turning their backs.
Smart.
—
Kaelen exhaled.
"That was Doctrine's high tribunal response team."
"Yep," Buta muttered.
Yolti blinked.
"…You just threatened Doctrine."
Buta grunted. "Didn't threaten. Just clarified the rules."
Selka knelt again beside Zephryn.
"He'll wake soon."
Buta nodded.
"He has to."
Kaelen frowned. "Why?"
—
Buta turned.
And his face, for the first time, looked haunted.
"Because the glyph didn't fracture," he said.
"It broke open."