Astra Fracta

Chapter Three: Aftermath Protocol

I didn’t stay in the alley long.

Staying meant questions.

And questions meant attention.

I pushed myself up before my body was ready. The wall scraped my shoulder as I moved, a sharp sting flaring briefly before fading into something dull and constant. My heartbeat was still wrong—too fast, then too slow—as if it hadn’t decided whether to calm down or collapse. Each breath felt heavier than the last, carrying a metallic taste from the blood I hadn’t quite wiped off yet. The faint hum of the city buzzed in the background, cars and distant voices blending into a low, constant drone that somehow felt oppressive.

Dragon Blood had retreated.

It never left without reminding me who was in control. And it had left a warning in its wake: I wasn’t ready. Not yet.

I wiped my mouth again, smearing the faint crimson across my palm before stepping into the street. Life continued as though nothing had happened. Cars passed with tires hissing against wet asphalt. Neon lights flickered, buzzing intermittently above abandoned storefronts, reflecting off puddles left from the evening rain. Somewhere far away, a faint laugh echoed, oblivious to the near-death moment I’d just survived. The smell of damp concrete mixed with exhaust fumes, curling up my nostrils with each breath. The city swallowed everything whole and moved on without hesitation.

Raven Ashcroft was gone.

But her words lingered, sharp as shards of glass.

This city doesn’t protect anomalies. It hunts them.

I kept my head down the entire way home, her presence echoing like frost brushing against my skin. The streets seemed quieter than usual, but maybe that was just my mind, replaying every second of the alley, every glance, every pulse of my own blood. Streetlamps cast pools of pale yellow light that barely reached the edges of shadowy alleyways. Even the graffiti on the walls seemed to lean closer in the darkness, mocking, warning, reminding me of how small and exposed I was.

Inside the house, everything was too normal. Too silent. The familiar creak of the floorboards under my steps. The faint smell of tea lingering in the kitchen. Things that belonged to a life untouched by executions and hidden laws, things I wished I could still claim as mine. The walls seemed almost too bright, too cheerful after the cold gray of the streets. The smell of my grandmother’s flowers in the window reminded me of simpler days—innocent days that now felt impossibly distant.

I locked the door behind me and went straight to the mirror. My reflection was pale, almost ghostlike. Thin red lines still traced beneath my skin, faint but undeniable. Evidence. I turned my wrists slowly, watching them fade as if the marks themselves were trying to vanish from memory. The dim light made my veins glow faintly, reminding me that the power was still inside, restless.

Untrained. Careless.

She had been right.

Sleep didn’t come.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the gun—not pointed at the man, but at me. The echo of her voice. The calm cruelty. The inevitability of it all. My mind kept returning to that frozen moment in the alley, over and over, like a recording that refused to stop. Shadows from my furniture stretched across the walls like elongated fingers, twisting into shapes that whispered fear into the quiet room.

Morning arrived sharply. The sun barely crept through the blinds when my grandmother called.

“Matsoya, you’re late again.”

“I’m up,” I muttered, my voice hoarse.

At breakfast, her eyes lingered on me longer than usual.

“You look tired,” she said.

“I’m fine,” I answered, though the words tasted bitter. She didn’t argue, but I knew she didn’t believe me either. The aroma of fresh bread and tea seemed alien to me this morning, clashing with the lingering taste of iron in my mouth.

Outside, the city felt different. The air smelled sharper, colder somehow, as if the world itself had noticed the events of last night. Police drones hovered lower than usual, scanning streets with mechanical precision. New warning notices covered walls and street screens:

Unregistered anomalies must be reported.

Cooperation ensures safety.

A vibration against my leg broke the eerie quiet. My phone. Unknown Number.

"You interfered last night."

I stopped walking, my pulse spiking.

"That makes you visible."

My fingers tightened around the device.

"Who are you?" I demanded, though my throat felt dry.

The reply came immediately.

"Someone tasked with correcting loose ends."

Raven Ashcroft had created one. She had put me on someone’s radar. The thought sent a chill through me. I shivered as the faint morning light reflected off the wet asphalt, streets now glinting with moisture like mirrors, exposing every c***k and puddle.

I swallowed hard.

"What do you want?"

A pause. Short. Intentional.

"To see if you’re worth keeping alive."

A location appeared on my screen: Industrial sector. Restricted. Tonight.

"If you run, we’ll know."

The screen went dark. Silence pressed against me. I stood there, surrounded by people who had no idea how fragile their safety really was. Every laugh, every footstep, every car passing now seemed like a countdown. Even the pigeons on the wires above cooed softly, oblivious to the invisible threat hovering in the streets below.

Raven had said names created attachment. Yet she had given me hers. A deliberate choice. A warning wrapped in a name. It meant she knew exactly the kind of world I was stepping into.

I slipped my phone into my pocket. A familiar heat stirred faintly in my veins—the whisper of Dragon Blood reminding me it was still alive, still hungry. The wind tugged at my hair, brushing against my face with a chill that made every nerve tense. Whatever waited for me tonight… it wasn’t a choice.

It was a test.

And failing meant disappearing.

End of chapter three.