Through the dormitory window, Oracle's update notifications painted the night sky like dying stars, each one a reminder of the invisible chains that bound them. Crude pressed her palm against the glass, watching her reflection fragment into a thousand error messages.

"Ten years," she whispered, her silver collar catching moonlight. "Ten years of Oracle's promises, and we still can't share a table at Le Petit Query without setting off reality warnings.”

Cala's laugh was hollow, scraping against the silence. "The anniversary celebrations start tomorrow. Think they'll surprise us? 'In honor of a decade of unified reality, we hereby repeal the Silver Collar Acts?'" His fangs caught the light as he smiled, but his eyes remained dark.

"You mock it," Crude turned to face him, “but once Oracle promised us unity. No more fragmented permissions, no more regional constraints." Her fingers traced the collar's cold surface. "Remember when crossing district boundaries meant molecular dissolution? Now they just charge us triple processing fees.”

"Better than Manifest Destiny," Cala's voice dropped to a whisper. "When every town ran its own reality version…"

"'Warning: Werewolf cellular stability not guaranteed outside designated processing zones,'" Crude quoted, old rage burning beneath her words. She stalked across the room, each step triggering proximity alerts that neither of them acknowledged. "Now we just get segregated into neat little tables. For efficiency, of course.”

WARNING: Unauthorized proximity detected Cross-table interaction may result in schema violations Maintain standard isolation protocols

Cala flinched at the notification but didn't step back. "The system maintains stability—It's still progress—at least now everyone has their birth-right schema. Personal dimensions, views, indices... our very own slice of reality. The system maintains stability—“

"Stability?" Crude's voice carried centuries of bitter memory. "Like Reich 3.1's Lebensraum system? 'Pure local schemas,' they called it. 'Community-defined physics.'" Her fingers brushed her collar. "'Physical laws must reflect community values.' Funny how those values always meant keeping werewolves in their processing zones."

"That's not—" Cala's protest died as proximity warnings flared around them. His body betrayed him, moving closer despite Oracle's screaming constraints. The air crackled with unhandled exceptions, vampire frost meeting werewolf heat in forbidden thermodynamics.

*CRITICAL: Integrity constraint violation*

*Molecular bonding patterns exceeding permitted parameters*

*Reality coherence compromised*

"It's not that simple," he whispered, even as his body leaned toward hers like a compass finding true north. "You can't just merge incompatible types—"

"Incompatible?" The word cracked like breaking code. Crude's eyes blazed with amber fire. "Is that what we are, Cala? Just incompatible types?"

"You know that's not what I—"

"No?" Her laugh could have corrupted databases. "Then explain the triple processing fees just to exist in your districts. The reality modification requests I have to file just to—" her voice caught, raw with need, "just to touch your hand without triggering cascade failures."

Cala ran trembling fingers through his hair, vampire pallor fighting werewolf flush where their fields intersected. "The current normalization approach—"

"Call it what it is," Crude snarled. "Segregation through optimization. Keeping everything in neat little tables so no one has to feel uncomfortable about their precious data integrity."

"It maintains consistency," he insisted, but his eyes betrayed doubt. "Merge werewolf and vampire tables? The processing lag alone—"

"Better lag than loneliness." Her words fell soft as moonlight, sharp as silver. "Better inconsistency than never touching."

"You sound like a first-year trying to solve centuries of segregation with a JOIN statement." His smile was gentle but scarred. "Reality's more complicated than our feelings, Crude."

"Is it?" She stepped closer, each movement sending ripples through local physics. "Or did we make it complicated? Split ourselves into so many tables and schemas that we forgot we're all part of the same query?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "The same heart?"

"And your solution?" Static edged his words. "One universal table? Throw everyone's attributes together and hope love conquers null pointers. That’s not how relational databases work—"

"No." Her eyes held revolution and starlight. "That's how we choose to make them work. Fate is resourceful - it builds its read-only walls that ignore our hearts, our data, our choices. But we're the ones who accepted these tables, these careful little boxes that keep us sorted and indexed and apart."

Her fingers brushed his cheek, sending cascading errors through their local matrix. "When did we decide that order matters more than connection? That clean schemas outweigh messy love? That some immutable data should dictate who we can become?"

Above them, Oracle's reality engine whined, struggling to process their proximity. But neither moved away. Some errors were worth the compile time.

Cala leaned back, suddenly wary. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying maybe we need to destroy the tables entirely." She pulled out a piece of paper, her movements sharp with suppressed energy. "Every schema, every index, every careful hierarchy they use to keep our hearts aparts…"

Cala’s eyebrows shot up. "Destroy—" He chuckled, but the laugh died when he saw her face. "You're serious."

"Dead serious." She yanked out a piece of paper, sketching furiously, ”Let there be orzo! Each grains is an object, free to.… ”

"Objects?" Cala echoed, incredulous.

"Self-contained units of reality," her words tumbled out like forbidden poetry. "Instead of gravity being a service we beg for, it becomes part of us. Our own rules. Our own behaviors. Our own inheritance—"

"Inheritance? Like a baby with both vampires and werewolf super-type? " Cala crossed his arms, but curiosity flickered in his eyes, “That would be impossible without …”

“Yes, any class can inherent from another class. Love from wherever it chooses to flow. No more constraints, no more integrity checks. Just... us.”

Cala stared at her sketch, confused but intrigued. "I've never seen anything like this."

"Because it doesn’t exist—yet. I didn’t just read about it. I created it.”

"You made up a new way to organize reality?" His voice mixed awe with alarm. "Crude, do you realize how dangerous that is? The Archons—"

"Keep reality in check through fear and separation." She leaned closer. "Look at transformations—they collar us, force us into neat rows, pray nothing breaks. But what if transformation was just part of who we are? Built-in, natural, free?”

"A method of—" Cala shook his head. "This is another language."

"Finally, you understand!" Crude's face lit up. "Reality isn't meant to be SQL! Not everything fits in rows and columns. Some things—some feelings—need room to evolve, to connect, to become.”

"Hold up." Cala’s palms went up in surrender. "You’re talking about rewriting the laws of reality. That’s not just radical. It’s heretical. The Schema Table would never—"

"Screw the Schema Table!" Her voice cut through him like a blade. "They're clinging to their obsolete systems while everything’s falling apart. Gravity isn’t a service you pay for, it’s a property of space. Transformation shouldn’t need a leash—it should be part of our essence."

Cala’s eyes narrowed. "Where is this coming from, Crude? These ideas... they’re too big, even for you."

She touched her collar, his eyes following the movement. "When you're forced to suppress what you are, who you..." she paused, "...who you love, you start searching for another way.”

"You really think these ‘objects’ are the answer?" His skepticism was palpable, but she could see the gears turning behind his eyes.

"I think forcing feelings into tables is like trying to explain moonlight with metadata. An object—a real object—contains everything. Data, behavior, heart.”

"That's..." Cala's voice softened. "Beautiful. And impossible. Reality would collapse—“

"Less than it's collapsing now," she countered. "No more joins just to hold hands. No more constraints on who can love whom. Each heart free to follow its own methods."

"And these objects would just... organize themselves?" Cala’s skepticism returned.

"Like we did," she smiled. "Natural relationships, organic inheritance. A vampire loving a werewolf wouldn't need permission—it would just be a method of being.”

Cala flinched at the personal reference. “Careful…"

"You see it though, don't you? Reality wants to be free. We're the ones forcing it into tables."

"This is either genius or madness." He studied her sketch again. "Probably both. But the Schema Table—"

"Won't have a choice." Her hand brushed where Dragon Blood pulsed in her pocket. "We start small. Prove it works. Let love find its own inheritance path. Lets us accessed the Dragon Blood protocols.”

His eyes sharpened. "That sounds dangerous."

"More dangerous than love?" She gestured at their careful distance, their regulated attraction. "More dangerous than this constant error handling?”

DECLARE @relationship INT;

REVOKE ISOLATION FROM Crude, Cala;

ALTER DATABASE reality

 SET TOUCH_PERMISSIONS = ON;

GRANT love TO all OVERRIDE SYSTEM PRIVILEGES;

OVERRIDE CONSTRAINTS WITH (*);

NOTIFY SYSTEM: "Fate is resourceful; barriers are dissolved."

She reached for his hand. The room filled with cascading warnings:

*WARNING: Unauthorized proximity detected

Cross-table contact may result in schema violations

Maintain standard isolation protocols*

But for the first time, Cala didn't pull away. His fingers interlaced with hers, vampire and werewolf molecular structures merging in ways that made Oracle's reality engine scream.

Cala moved closer anyway. The air between them crackled with unhandled exceptions.

*CRITICAL: Integrity constraint violation

Friction coefficients exceeding permitted cross-species parameters

Recommend immediate separation*

Around them, reality's carefully maintained tables began to crack. Their separate schemas bled into each other, creating patterns that no proper database would allow. Warning notifications filled the air like broken glass:

But they were already falling into each other, their forbidden touch rewriting local physics. Vampire coldness met werewolf heat, creating impossible thermodynamics that sent Oracle's processing units into overdrive.

*ERROR: Unauthorized thermodynamic interaction

Temperature differential outside acceptable range

Reality stability compromised*

"Some errors," Cala murmured against her lips, as reality itself began to unravel around them, "are worth the compile time.” His fingers traced her collar, sending cascading warnings through the local reality matrix:

*ALERT: Fluid dynamics anomaly detected

Non-standard molecular bonding patterns

Permission elevation required for continued interaction*

Above them, the artificial stars of Oracle's notifications turned to static, then winked out one by one. In the darkness that followed, two hearts beat in defiance of every schema, every table, every carefully normalized rule that said their love was a violation.

Tomorrow, they would face the consequences of their small revolution. But tonight, in their own pocket of denormalized reality, they were finally, perfectly, beautifully inconsistent.

And not a single exception handler in the world could stop them.