Orphaned Seed
Copyright© 2026 by Fantasylover11
Chapter 7: The Mill Test
Two weeks of training didn’t make Noah feel powerful.
It made him feel measurable.
Every session at the safehouse stripped his movements down and rebuilt them with Mara’s blunt patience. Breath. Balance. Control. The ability to stay calm when his body wanted to bolt.
Masking stayed a word on his overlay that didn’t explain itself.
HIDDEN OBJECTIVE: LEARN MASKING
Mara didn’t mention it.
Noah didn’t mention it.
The contract had turned his questions into liabilities.
On July sixteenth, Mara drove him back toward Marrowick without telling him where they were going until the brick skeleton of the mills rose out of the trees.
Noah’s stomach sank.
“You brought me here,” he said.
Mara kept both hands on the wheel. “You were going to come back anyway.”
Noah hated that she was right.
They parked behind a stack of old pallets where the lot dipped out of sight from the road.
The air tasted like rust and river water.
Mara popped the trunk.
Inside was a small duffel and a hard plastic case.
“Proof test,” she said.
Noah looked at her. “Proof of what?”
“Proof that you can follow instructions when the world is trying to make you panic.” Mara handed him a thin earpiece. “Put it in. Don’t talk unless you have to.”
Noah took it, fingers stiff.
“You said no mind games,” he said.
Mara’s gaze held. “This isn’t a mind game. It’s a field condition.”
Noah slid the earpiece in.
It clicked softly.
“Hear me?” Mara asked.
“Yeah,” Noah said.
“Good,” Mara said. “If you lose me in here, you stop. You do not get creative.”
Noah’s mouth tightened. “Understood.”
Mara opened the case.
Inside, nestled in foam, was a token like a coin at first glance. Then the light hit it and Noah saw the etched lines—tight, geometric marks that made his skin prickle.
“Sigiled,” Mara said. “You will retrieve one like it from inside.”
Noah looked at it. “That’s ... why the air feels wrong.”
“Partly.” Mara closed the case. “The building is also unstable. You’ve got a window.”
“A window for what?”
Mara nodded toward the mill.
The pressure in Noah’s ears sharpened as if the place recognized him.
“For collapse,” Mara said.
Noah’s heartbeat ticked up.
The overlay expanded without being asked.
QUEST: TRAINING BLOCK 1 — FIELD PROOF OBJECTIVE: RETRIEVE SIGILED TOKEN CONDITION: KEEP IT PLAUSIBLE TIMER: 06:00
Noah watched the timer.
“Six minutes,” Mara said in his ear, voice clipped. “Go.”
Noah moved.
The mill swallowed him the same way it had the first time: shadow, dust, the smell of old oil. But this time he didn’t stumble. He didn’t freeze.
He counted his breath.
In for four.
Out for six.
The overlay’s timer felt like a drum.
He stepped over debris with deliberate care, tracking the pressure in the air like a compass.
“Left,” Mara said.
Noah turned.
The interior corridor narrowed and the floor pitched slightly under his weight.
The building groaned.
He focused.
PATTERN SIGHT (R1): ACTIVE
The world arranged itself into usable information.
Not fantasy.
Physics.
The beam on the left was failing. The plaster above him was loose. The shortest path wasn’t the safest.
Noah took the longer route without arguing with the instinct to sprint.
“Good,” Mara said, and the single word eased something in his chest.
At the far end of the corridor, a section of ceiling had already cracked open, spilling dust in slow drifts. Under it, wedged between two broken supports, something gleamed.
The token.
Noah moved toward it.
The building shuddered.
Dust poured down.
The floor shifted under his foot.
Noah’s pulse spiked.
He didn’t have time to climb carefully.
He planted his palm on a beam and vaulted.
The movement was cleaner than it would have been a month ago. His body listened. His breath held steady.
He landed with a controlled bend of his knees, grabbed the token, and felt the etched marks buzz against his skin.
The timer in his vision ticked down.
02:11
He turned back.
The corridor behind him sagged.
The safest path was gone.
Mara’s voice snapped in his ear. “Out. Now.”
Noah ran.
Not fast.
Fast enough.
Pattern Sight kept his steps in line. He jumped where the floor was weakest. He ducked when plaster let go. He used his hands to steady himself on walls without leaning too hard.
The mill groaned again, louder.
And then Noah felt it.
Eyes.
Not Mara’s.
Outside.
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