The vault door peeled back like the lid of an ancient tomb. A hiss of pressure escaped, followed by cold air that tasted of rust and old secrets.
Kael's pulse thundered in his ears.
Mira stepped through first, unblinking.
The chamber beyond wasn't like the rest of the ruin. Where the upper levels were decay and collapse, this place was pristine. Untouched. White light glowed softly from seams in the walls, humming with a low resonance that Kael felt more than heard.
It was a dome—perfectly circular, smooth metal walls etched with flowing script he couldn't read. In the center stood a black column, rising from floor to ceiling, pulsing faintly with a heartbeat glow. Thin tendrils of light spidered out from its base, connecting to panels, consoles, and dormant screens.
Kael stepped closer, every instinct screaming caution. "What is this place?"
Mira's voice was almost reverent. "The Heart of the Spire."
She ran her fingers along the column's surface. "Pre-Collapse tech. Not just a server. A sentient archive. They used these to store not just data, but decision trees, predictive models… memories. Maybe consciousness."
Kael's breath caught. "You're saying this thing's alive?"
"In a way."
The light pulsed brighter at her touch. A hidden panel slid open. Inside: a crystal core, suspended in static fields, rotating slowly. As Kael stared, the hum deepened. A voice bloomed in the air—neither male nor female, young nor old. Just there.
> "Designation: Reader Confirmed."
Kael stumbled back.
Mira didn't flinch. "Authorization accepted. Protocol Unlocking."
The dome vibrated. Lights came alive along the walls—maps, files, schematics, languages long forgotten. One screen showed a view of Ashenfall from above, overlayed with markers and networks Kael didn't understand.
Another displayed something worse: a roster of faces. Scavengers. Rebels. Even himself.
Kael's jaw tightened. "It's been watching us."
Mira nodded grimly. "The Core never died. Just slept."
He stepped forward, scanning the screens. "Why would they hide this? This tech—this knowledge—it could change everything."
"Exactly." Mira turned, face shadowed. "That's why they buried it. Why the Overseers kill for it."
She pointed to another screen: a timeline. It showed the Collapse not as a single event—but as a choice. Factions fighting over control of the Core. Cities falling. Leaders disappearing. The last command before the world burned?
> "Lock and Silence All Nodes."
Kael stared. "They shut the world down to save it."
"Or to save themselves."
The glow shifted. A new panel lit up—an access prompt with one word flashing: INTEGRATE.
Kael's fingers twitched. "What does that do?"
Mira hesitated. "Connects the Core to your neural thread. It downloads the archive directly into your brain."
He backed away. "That's insane. That could fry me."
"It could also make you the only person alive who remembers how this world used to work."
They stood in silence, surrounded by forgotten brilliance.
Then the voice returned—closer now, as if whispering.
> "Do you seek understanding?"
Kael's throat went dry.
> "Will you bear the cost of truth?"
He looked to Mira. She gave no answers. Only waited.
He took a breath.
And reached for the prompt.