Kael had not lifted his left boot when its print appeared three steps behind him.
The mark sank into the ash with its heel facing the wrong direction. Pale light copied the split toe and iron dust in his leather, although no blood from the hook in his calf appeared.
HUM!
Vaela tightened her grip on the wrapped crown fragment. Smoke escaped between the layers of cloth and leaned toward the mark.
"Keep everyone on the black steps," she said. "The floor has copied his boot, and I would rather not learn what it does with another person."
Jaro had already backed against the wall. His bandaged palms hovered near his chest while he stared at the pale heel.
"Keep your boots away from it," he said. "Pipe crews used to whisper about marks like these after a worker vanished, although I never saw one myself."
Orrek lowered his chain across the lowest step. "You might have mentioned the disappearing workers before we found their footprints walking backward."
Jaro pressed closer to the wall. "I did not know the story mattered until the floor proved it. Fear has been organizing my memory ever since."
A second print formed behind the first.
TAP!
A third followed, each one pointing back toward the chamber they had escaped.
TAP!
Renn pulled the count cloth across his wrist and touched the furnace-scar woman’s hand. "They are copying where Kael walked."
"Watch the knees," Vaela said.
The nearest mark bent at the middle. A pale heel rose from the ash, followed by the shape of an ankle that had no leg above it. The print took one backward step with Kael’s old limp, the same uneven movement he had used before she bound his calf.
Kael felt the hook inside his wound pull in answer.
The copied foot was not following his path. It was repeating the injured step that had carried him into the route split.
SCRAPE!
Black glass gathered inside the heel and dragged the mark closer.
Sella pulled her daughter against her side. Dorran shifted his weight onto Tavin before his damaged ankle could fold, while the burned worker covered the torn skin across his ribs. All fourteen were still moving through injuries the white rooms had already seen.
"Move in pairs again," Kael said. "Keep hold of the person beside you, even if a mark opens between your feet."
Renn placed each pair, using names when his damaged throat allowed and touch when speech failed. Tavin stayed with Dorran, Sella kept her daughter ahead of the burned worker, and the bowl boy held the furnace-scar woman’s sleeve. Orrek took the rear where his chain could reach either wall.
The first print touched Kael’s blood.
Cold climbed through his calf. His knee bent before he chose to move, and his wounded shoulder pulled backward as if the broken crown still held it. The copied mark had found an earlier position of his body and was trying to force him into it.
CRACKLE!
The Sovereign Root answered.
====================================================================
[ SOVEREIGN ROOT INTERFACE OVERLAY ]
--------------------------------------------------------------------
≫ HOSTILE TRIAGE PRESSURE DETECTED: Backward Footprint Reconstruction
≫ EXISTENTIAL SHARDS EXTRACTED: +1
--------------------------------------------------------------------
▶ MANUAL ALLOCATION COMMAND: NONE GIVEN
====================================================================
One shard ignited.
Five more prints appeared across the passage. Three copied the uneven steps he had already taken. One remained flat and empty. Another held a white tooth beneath its arch. The last had a thin line running from its heel into the floor.
Kael drove the command inward.
Threat Perception Instinct.
ALLOCATE!
====================================================================
[ SOVEREIGN ROOT INTERFACE OVERLAY ]
--------------------------------------------------------------------
≫ MANUAL ALLOCATION COMMAND RECEIVED
--------------------------------------------------------------------
▶ SHARD ALLOCATION REGISTERED: +1 TOTAL
▶ ALLOCATION DISTRIBUTION:
- Threat Perception Instinct -> 24
--------------------------------------------------------------------
≫ POINT IMMENSITY RESPONSE: Sequence Threat Recognition Surge Confirmed
≫ UNALLOCATED EXISTENTIAL SHARDS: 0
====================================================================
The marks did not become brighter or slower. Kael simply understood which one could hurt them.
The empty print waited for his weight, while the tooth beneath another waited for flesh. Only the sixth mark fed movement toward a scar mirror farther down the passage; the first three were harmless copies placed where frightened people would waste time avoiding them.
Kael stepped beside the sixth heel and drove his boot into the thin white line.
THUD!
Stone cracked beneath the ash. Every copied foot jerked out of rhythm.
Renn looked from the broken line to Kael. "You made them miss a step."
"The line was carrying the movement," Kael said. "Stay away from any print with white beneath its heel."
Vaela glanced at the blood spreading through his binding. "You can explain the rest after I remove the hook. For now, place your foot where you intend to keep it."
The formation descended the black steps in pairs. Their pace looked clumsy because no two wounded people moved alike. Dorran leaned heavily on Tavin. Sella shortened her stride for her daughter. The burned worker kept one arm across his ribs. Renn changed hands whenever pain made his grip weaken.
The prints struggled to copy them as one pattern.
A wall mirror lit beside Dorran. Its reflection showed him without Tavin’s arm, falling alone while a white ring closed around his throat. Another mirror showed Sella’s daughter walking two steps behind her mother until the child faded from the glass.
Sella stopped.
Her daughter pulled at her coat. "Mama, I am still here."
Sella looked away from the mirror and touched the child’s cheek. "I know. Keep your hand on me, and do not let the glass tell you otherwise."
Jaro faced a reflection of himself kneeling before a route clerk. No one stood beside him, and both of his hands were uninjured.
"It made me cheaper," he said, offended despite the sweat on his face. "I object to the price and the healthy hands."
Orrek moved close enough for his shoulder to brush Jaro’s. "Complain while walking. I cannot drag you and Dorran with the same chain."
The contact changed Jaro’s reflection. Orrek appeared beside him, broad and wounded, and the kneeling boy vanished.
Renn saw it happen. "The mirrors remove whoever is helping. Stay close enough to appear together."
The survivors closed their gaps until shoulders touched and hands found sleeves or wrists. Their movement looked clumsy, but the mirrors could no longer show one body without cutting another person from the image.
Pale ash stirred between Renn and Vaela.
RUSTLE!
A footprint opened in the narrow space and lifted its hollow heel toward Renn’s ankle. Vaela caught the count cloth before the mark could rise through it.
"Move your hand to my wrist," she said. "The cloth can cross the gap, but your skin tells him where I actually am."
Renn obeyed. He pressed two fingers against her pulse and passed the cloth back to the furnace-scar woman.
The print folded flat.
Another opened between Dorran and Tavin. Orrek hooked the backs of their belts with the loose end of his chain and pulled them together before the heel could rise.
"I have found a respectable use for bad clothing," he said.
Dorran managed a breathless laugh. "You pull any harder, and the belt becomes the injury."
"Vaela already has too many injuries. I am trying to avoid professional jealousy."
Their voices loosened the fear moving through the line. They still watched the prints, but they stopped staring at the floor long enough to notice one another.
The passage widened and the mirrors changed. They showed places Kael had damaged: the gravity press, the old mouth, the soundless seam, the Quarantine Crown. Each image removed the people who had been there.
Garron’s laughter was gone from the lift. Renn was missing from the old mouth. Vaela’s blood did not stain the damaged white edge. The fourteen did not stand behind Kael when the crown broke.
The pictures were accurate only after everything that gave the violence meaning had been removed.
Kael watched the crown break again in silent black glass. His reflected fist struck because the room showed a fist striking, not because wounded people needed a path. White lines measured his shoulder, hip, and planted foot.
"It wants the movement without the reason," Renn said.
"Reasons change what a person does next," Vaela replied. "A copied fist cannot know who he was protecting or what he refused to hit."
Jaro kept his face turned from the nearest mirror. "A clean copy is easier to prepare for. Pipe crews used to alter a repair every time the inspectors returned, because a repeated method gave them someone to blame."
Every empty reflection gave the white rooms a simpler enemy to prepare for. The mirrors were stripping Kael’s victories down until only repeatable movements remained.
The copied footprints stopped chasing his boots.
Each mirror showed a pause instead: Vaela’s hand before a cut, Orrek’s shoulder before he held a line, Renn’s fingers before he counted, Kael’s breath before he chose to move. The white line beneath the floor pulsed whenever a reflected body began its decision.
Blood dropped from Kael’s knuckles.
DRIP!
The closest mirror copied the flex of his fingers and started drawing a restraint around the reflected hand.
Kael closed his fist before the image finished. The glass split from the knuckles outward.
CRACK!
At the far end of the passage, one footprint remained. It was wider than his boot and filled with black-red light. The heel turned toward him without rising from the floor.
TAP!
Pain ran through the hook in Kael’s calf. His body tried to return to the stance he had used before his first impact, but his new footing held.
"It has enough of my movement to give an order," he said. "It does not have enough to make me obey."
Vaela adjusted the wrapped crown fragment under her arm. "The mirrors will keep taking pieces while we stand here. We need the next chamber before they decide how to use what they have."
Renn guided the pairs forward. The count moved through hands instead of spoken numbers, and the mirrors had to follow fourteen changing bodies rather than one clean line.
Behind them, the large footprint pressed deeper into the ash.
Ahead, a clay bowl moved by itself and struck the wall.
CLINK!
Renn closed both hands around the count cloth as every pulse inside the fabric vanished.