Orphaned Seed
Copyright© 2026 by Fantasylover11
Chapter 23: The Ethical Line
The chapel steps were colder in November.
Not just the stone.
The air.
The way the trees had gone mostly bare, branches scratching at a sky rinsed clean of color.
Noah sat on the top step with his hood up and his hands shoved into his pockets.
His seed was under review.
His access was limited.
His name had been stamped with a word that wasn’t a charge and wasn’t a verdict.
Anomaly.
He’d learned what it meant anyway.
Object.
Noah stared out at the empty lawn and let himself do the math he hadn’t allowed in the hallway.
If he left, he could go back to Marrowick.
If he left, he could disappear into a town that already knew how to look away.
If he left, Sienna wouldn’t be collateral.
If he left, Jules wouldn’t be leaned on.
If he left, the system would win.
The Interface hovered at the edge of his vision, brighter than it had any right to be.
GO UNDERGROUND — EXPIRED PENALTY: FOG (ACTIVE)
He still didn’t know what the penalty was called.
He only knew it had been biting for days.
Sleep came in scraps. His hands felt a half-second behind his thoughts.
He felt his phone vibrate.
Noah stared at it too long.
Then he answered.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Don’t do that thing where you pretend you’re fine,” Jules Ortega replied.
Noah huffed a breath.
“Which thing?” he asked.
“The quiet thing,” Jules said. “The one where you disappear without telling anybody.”
Noah closed his eyes for a second.
“I haven’t disappeared,” he said.
“You’re thinking about it,” Jules replied.
Noah didn’t deny it.
Silence held.
Then Jules spoke again, voice steadier.
“You did the right thing in that room,” Jules said.
Noah swallowed.
“The right thing got me labeled,” Noah said.
“Yeah,” Jules replied. “Because the label isn’t about the truth. It’s about control.”
Noah stared at the dark lawn.
“I’m tired,” Noah admitted.
“I know,” Jules said. “So here’s your reminder: you’re not allowed to fix this by becoming the kind of person you hate.”
Noah went still.
The words hit his ribs.
“What kind of person?” Noah asked, even though he knew.
Jules didn’t hesitate.
“The one who uses Presence like a crowbar,” Jules said. “The one who makes people agree because he can.”
Noah’s throat tightened.
“I haven’t,” he said.
“Not yet,” Jules replied. “That’s why I’m calling.”
Noah exhaled.
He could feel the temptation like a clean line.
Use the tool.
Make the room listen.
Stop being afraid.
And if he crossed that line once, he’d find a reason to cross it again.
Noah opened his eyes.
“Okay,” he said.
“Okay what?” Jules asked.
Noah’s voice went low.
“I set a rule,” Noah said. “No coercive Presence. Not for this. Not ever.”
Jules exhaled like he’d been holding his breath.
“Good,” he said. “Now do the other hard thing.”
Noah frowned.
“Ask for help,” Jules said.
Noah bit the inside of his cheek.
“I have been,” he said.
“Not like you mean it,” Jules replied. “Call Sienna. Tell her you’re scared. Without asking her to fix it.”
Noah stared at his phone.
He hated how much that would cost.
Pride.
Control.
The illusion that he could keep everyone safe by being quiet enough.
“Okay,” Noah said.
Jules didn’t soften.
“And Mercer?” he added.
“Yeah?” Noah asked.
“Don’t run,” Jules said.
Noah’s mouth tightened.
“I’m not,” he said.
“Good,” Jules replied, and hung up.
Noah sat on the step a moment longer.
Then he called Sienna.
She met him under the chapel overhang a few minutes later, hair damp from the drizzle that had started and stopped without committing.
Sienna didn’t ask if he was okay.
She looked at his face and made a decision.
“Walk,” she said.
Noah walked beside her toward the Annex entrance route.
The campus around them was quiet, students tucked into dorms and libraries, the surface world moving on with its normal problems.
“Jules called,” Noah said.
“Good,” Sienna replied.
Noah swallowed.
“I thought about leaving,” he said.
Sienna’s gaze snapped to him.
Noah kept walking.
“Not because I want to,” Noah added quickly. “Because I can see the path.”
Sienna’s voice stayed low.
“And?” she asked.
Noah exhaled.
“And I don’t want to become a weapon,” he said.
Sienna didn’t interrupt.
Noah kept going, words forced out like breath.
“I can feel the shortcut,” he said. “The part of me that wants to make people stop looking at me like a thing by making them look at me like an answer.”
Sienna’s jaw worked once.
“Presence,” she said.
Noah nodded.
“I’m scared of what it could make me,” he admitted.
Sienna let the silence hold.
Then she spoke.
“Good,” she said.
Noah blinked.
“Good?” he repeated.
Sienna’s gaze stayed forward.
“It means you still have a line,” she said. “It means you haven’t decided the ends justify the means.”
Noah swallowed.
“I need your help,” he said.
The words landed like a surrender.
Sienna slowed and turned to face him.
“Say it clean,” she said.
Noah met her eyes.
“I need you with me,” he said. “Not as cover. Not as leverage. As a witness and a partner.”
Sienna studied him.
His chest tightened.
He didn’t add promises.
He didn’t add a confession.
He let the request stand.
Sienna nodded once.
“Okay,” she said. “On my terms.”
Noah’s mouth twitched.
“I figured,” he said.
“Term one,” Sienna said. “No half-truths that make me collateral.”
Noah nodded.
“I tell you where the line is,” he said.
“Term two,” Sienna continued. “If I tell you to stop, you stop. No hero moves.”
Noah’s mouth tightened.
“Okay,” he said.
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