WAYFARER: CLAIM THE UNCLAIMABLE

Fern’s expression suggested she wouldn’t make promises.

The examiner asked whether the three Claim slots had remained empty since the age-six examination.

”For another thirteen years.” Sio shifted carefully in the chair. ”Thirteen increasingly embarrassing years of trying to put something in one of them.”

The woman’s mouth softened faintly. ”And now?”

Sio hesitated just long enough for everyone in the room to notice.

”My first one happened yesterday.”

Fern’s posture changed against the console. She didn’t jump on the answer immediately; the concern developed more slowly as she fitted it beside everything that had happened that morning. ”So you spent thirteen years unable to Claim anything, finally succeeded yesterday, and within a day a Vessel started hunting you.”

Sio heard the implication perfectly well. ”I realize that combination looks terrible when you say it all together.”

”You never mentioned how recent the Claim was.”

”You asked whether I had one.” The defense escaped before he’d properly inspected it. Sio heard himself, saw Fern’s expression and rubbed a tired hand over his face. ”That sounded much better in my head.”

Caspian’s voice drifted from nearby. ”Most defenses do.”

Fern let the technicality die without wasting time on it. ”We’ll discuss what counts as relevant information later.”

Sio suspected he had just acquired an appointment he hadn’t wanted.

The examiner moved the curved apparatus closer and explained what she intended to do. The Nexus equipment could compare the imprint left by a Wayfarer’s encounter with the Passage against earlier records and identify structural changes. Identity and Nature weren’t guaranteed to resolve; the examination could only read what was actually available to it.

Sio found that last limitation unexpectedly comforting.

He placed his palm against the dark plate built into the armrest.

The material warmed beneath his skin. Fine metallic lines spread from his hand into the curved frame, climbing through it in branching patterns before fading overhead. A cool pressure followed somewhere deeper, brushing against the same impossible place he felt whenever his System responded.

The panel brightened.

〔 WAYFARER CLASSIFICATION 〕

VEYR

A moment later, more information appeared beneath it.

〔 CLAIMS 〕

CAPACITY: III

ACTIVE CLAIMS: I

The examiner placed today’s result beside the previous records.

Three examinations now sat in sequence.

BIRTH — VEYR

AGE SIX — VEYR

CURRENT — VEYR

Sio stared at the progression for longer than necessary. Nineteen years of consistency would have been comforting under almost any other circumstances.

Then the active Claim opened.

〔 CLAIM I 〕

IDENTITY: UNRESOLVED

NATURE: UNRESOLVED

The examiner ran the reading again. She grew quieter the second time, adjusting the apparatus herself instead of explaining every change. The cool pressure moved through Sio once more.

Nothing changed.

〔 CLAIM I 〕

IDENTITY: UNRESOLVED

NATURE: UNRESOLVED

”What did you Claim?”

Sio had known that question was coming.

He still wasn’t prepared to answer it.

Yesterday returned with uncomfortable clarity: the sky splitting above Luminara, something forcing itself through a boundary it should never have crossed, his mother waiting only streets away, and later the impossible city where that same creature had tried to kill him again. Fern and Caspian had saved his life this morning. That mattered.

Every secret he had wasn’t part of the payment.

”I wish I had a useful name for you.” His fingers worried at the corner of the handkerchief while he chose each word. ”Something attacked me yesterday. I reacted, the situation became considerably worse before it improved, and when I checked afterward my first slot wasn’t empty anymore.”

Fern listened without interrupting. Sio could almost feel her testing the spaces between his sentences.

”You’re being selective.”

He didn’t bother pretending otherwise. ”I’m trying not to turn things I barely understand into facts. I genuinely don’t know what I Claimed.”

It wasn’t the whole reason, but it was true.

The unresolved Identity glowing behind him helped.

The examiner chose a more practical route. ”Describe whatever attacked you.”

Sio’s memory immediately supplied far too much: limbs emerging through ruptures, eyes opening across a body that refused to settle into one shape, architecture wrapped around something enormous.

He took his time before answering. ”It was large enough that I never got a useful sense of the whole thing. There were limbs. Too many, I think. Beyond that, I’m not comfortable pretending I understood what I was seeing.”

Caspian seemed pleasantly surprised. ”That’s considerably better than ’large.’”

Sio frowned toward him. ”I was considering large.”

”I could tell.”

Fern allowed the exchange to breathe before bringing them back. ”You didn’t deliberately choose this thing?”

”Nothing about yesterday felt chosen.”

That answer seemed to satisfy her more than his earlier evasions.

The examiner asked what Sio’s own System had displayed after the Claim formed. He gave her the information gradually: unresolved Identity and Nature, incomplete Integration and insufficient Host Capacity. When Responsibility came up, Sio admitted that the System still listed it as unfulfilled.

Fern’s fingers pressed more firmly into her sleeve.

Caspian stopped looking bored.

Neither reaction was dramatic, but Sio had begun learning their quieter tells. He stored both away without asking what they meant. Every answer he volunteered seemed to manufacture several new questions, and for once he could tolerate letting one survive.

The examiner compared the readings again. ”Whatever you’ve Claimed, the Nexus isn’t identifying it any better than your System.”

Relief loosened something inside Sio.

He hadn’t realized how worried he was that the machine might simply peel open everything he’d chosen not to tell them.

Fern returned to the attack. ”You said your Claim reacted before you knew the Vessel was following you. What happened?”

”That part I can actually describe.” Sio lowered the handkerchief and tested the soreness beneath his jaw with two fingers. ”Whatever I Claimed noticed him first. It became restless, then angry. More hostile than it usually is.”

Caspian’s attention sharpened at the last part. ”You already have a usual level of hostility?”

Sio realized what he’d admitted and decided retreat would only make it worse. ”My relationship with my first Claim has room for improvement.”

Caspian seemed increasingly entertained. He asked whether the thing actually disliked Sio, and Sio described their differences as philosophical, which earned him a doubtful expression from a man fully aware they’d known each other less than a day.

”It formed opinions quickly,” Sio added.

Fern let the absurdity survive for another moment. ”Tell her what the Vessel said.”

The humor faded naturally.

Sio still remembered borrowed fingers closing around his throat and the strange recognition that had entered the creature’s face.

”He knew I was Veyr before I told him anything. Later, after my vision changed and I started avoiding his attacks, he called me something else.” His fingers rested unconsciously against the bruising beneath his jaw. ”Riven.”

The examiner’s professional calm held, though her attention shifted immediately toward the classification on the panel.

She asked Sio to describe the vision change, and he explained the paths as clearly as possible. Movement had begun leaving routes through his sight. The Vessel’s attacks possessed them too, letting him react before the force actually reached him.

Fern confirmed what she’d witnessed. ”He wasn’t simply moving quickly. Several times he committed to avoiding an attack before there was anything visible for him to react to. I assumed his Claim was responsible.”

”So did I,” Sio admitted, ”until my System gave it another name.”

The examiner became still. ”It identified a Scar?”

”An anomalous one. That’s everything it told me.”

For several seconds she said nothing. Her attention returned to the three classifications displayed beside one another: birth, six, nineteen. Then she asked whether he’d found any new wound on his body.

”I spent a very undignified amount of time checking last night. Nothing.”

That bothered her.

Every Riven carried a physical Scar somewhere. Some marks became faint with age or changed as abilities developed, she explained, but the wound itself remained traceable. Sio’s situation left even less room for ambiguity because the two earlier examinations had documented him before any Scar existed.

The examiner started with his hands and arms, following every old mark long enough for Sio to explain where it came from. She worked carefully around his bruised shoulder before asking him to remove his outer shirt so she could examine his chest, back and neck.

Sio struggled carefully out of the garment while Fern occupied herself with the console.

Caspian remained nearby, waiting for the examination to continue and apparently seeing no reason his eyes required relocation.

Fern did.

”You could give him some privacy.”

Caspian seemed genuinely surprised that his presence had become part of the medical procedure. He explained that he was waiting for the examination, but Fern suggested the opposite wall would remain available for observation during the next thirty seconds.

”The wall hasn’t done anything interesting.”

”It defeated Sio.”

A laugh escaped Sio before his bruised throat punished him for participating. ”She’s got you there.”

Caspian conceded with reluctant dignity and redirected his attention toward the wall, muttering that architecture apparently enjoyed more respect than he did in the medical wing. Fern returned to the console with the satisfaction of someone who had won this particular argument many times before, leaving Sio wondering how many years of history were hidden inside conversations like that.

The examiner continued searching around his ribs, beneath his hair and along the bruising at the back of his neck. Nothing she found was recent enough to matter.

By the time Sio had eased his shirt back on, she had become noticeably quieter.

”There should be a Scar.”

Fern left the console. ”Could it have changed already?”

”Not enough to disappear.” The examiner passed a handheld reader down both arms, then slowly across his back. Her explanation had become more restrained now, each failed pass apparently making her less interested in speculation. ”A Scar can spread, distort or become difficult to recognize after years. His supposedly formed yesterday. I should be able to find the physical wound.”

Sio inspected his own arms again as though professional attention might have embarrassed the Scar into appearing.

”Apparently mine prefers privacy.”

The examiner was already reconfiguring the larger apparatus. ”Let’s find out how much.”

Sio placed his palm back against the plate.

The next sweep felt different immediately.

Pressure reached inward and found something tender in a place Sio couldn’t locate physically. His fingers tightened against the armrest before he consciously decided to move them. The sensation pushed deeper, and for half a heartbeat the edges of his vision threatened to fill with paths.

The examiner stopped the sweep.

〔 SCAR 〕

SIGNATURE DETECTED

She didn’t announce the discovery immediately. Instead, she reran the reading at a narrower range, then again from a different angle. Each attempt returned the same signature. By the third, she had stopped explaining the controls altogether and worked with the absorbed silence of someone who trusted an impossible result less each time it reproduced itself.

Fern remained near the display. ”You’ve confirmed it?”

”Repeatedly.” The examiner finally sat back. ”The Scar exists.”