I stop fighting the network. That is the first thing. Every time I tried to close it, I treated the connections like something invading me. They are not. They are routes. Too many routes with nowhere safe to go. So I do what I have done my entire adult life. I give them structure.
“Saoirse, tell me where it hurts.”
She closes her eyes.
“Everywhere.”
“Start with the strongest.”
She points west. I feel it. A cluster of Guardians carrying other people’s panic. I separate the fear from the response. Then the Healers. Then the Scholars. One connection at a time. Not severed. Returned. The city begins to quiet. Saoirse’s grip tightens around mine. Blood runs down the side of her face.
“Keep going.”
“I am.”
My head feels as though someone has driven a nail through it. The centre of the hall shifts beneath my feet. Kareem shouts that the western exit is clear. People move. I keep building. Paths out. Paths home. Every designation back to itself without cutting it off from everyone else. That is the part the Council never understood. The system is not meant to isolate people into perfect categories. Connection does not have to mean losing yourself. I see it now. Maybe I always have. The last line closes. Silence hits. Real silence. Saoirse collapses against me. I catch her. Outside, sirens fill the street. The Annex is evacuated before the remaining ceiling gives way. I leave last. Not because I am heroic.
Because my father is still inside. Kareem comes with me. We carry him out together. The paramedics do what I already know will not work. My mother arrives from Lagos the next morning. I meet her at the hospital. One look at my face and she knows. She does not scream. She does not collapse. She walks into my arms and holds on. For the first time since I was seven, there is no system, no Council, no question about what I am. I am simply her son. And my father is dead.