Night draped itself over the Graveglass Dunes like a mourning veil. The stars blinked into view one by one, a thousand eyes watching silently from above as Kael and his new companions made camp beneath the shattered spires of a once-great observatory. Time and nature had warped the place—a ruin of metal bones and fused glass windows, half-swallowed by the desert's hunger.
Kael sat a little apart from the others, meditating with the shard Drex had given him. He held it loosely in his palm, letting the ember-flame pulse beneath his skin and through the core mirror's surface. As before, images began to form.
This time, he saw chains. Not the kind that bind the body, but those that wound around the soul. One end linked to Kael's own core—gray, formless, ancient. The other ends snaked into darkness.
He awoke with a sharp breath, gasping like a drowning man.
Across the fire, Aren watched him, sharpening a blade with the quiet intensity of someone who'd known too many goodbyes.
"Another vision?" she asked without looking up.
"Chains," Kael said. "Lots of them."
She stopped sharpening. "You sure it wasn't a memory?"
"Not mine."
Drex groaned from the other side of the camp. "Great. Soul bondage. That means one of two things: you're either cursed... or chosen."
Kael smirked. "Or both."
Lira stirred under her moss-blanket, the compass in her arms twitching like a dreaming pet. "We'll know which soon enough. Hollow Sun's not subtle when they chase ghosts."
---
The next leg of their journey took them north toward the Sunken March, a toxic valley between the Dunes and the fractured jungle known as the Verdant Scar. Once a fertile river basin, it had been twisted by arcane weaponry during the Talent Wars. Now, it was a necropolis of ruined clan machines and whispering flora that drank blood more eagerly than water.
The group moved quickly, veiled in scavenger cloaks to confuse the thermal sentries left by Hollow Sun scouts.
They passed through bone fields where the skeletons of behemoth war constructs lay half-buried in sludge, their core pods long drained. Kael could feel remnants of power lingering—ghost circuits that hissed and sparked when the wind shifted.
"It's not just a shortcut," Aren explained as they picked their way around a collapsed mech-tank. "There's a vault beneath the old River Hold. We can hide there for a few days. Resupply. Maybe find out what that schematic can do."
Kael nodded, but his thoughts lingered on the core mirror. Why did it keep showing him symbols? Visions? Could it be that his talent wasn't a singular ability, but a framework?
When they reached the edge of the March, the smell hit them like a punch: rot, metal, and ozone. The terrain shifted from sand to a blackened mixture of clay and glassy residue. The trees—if they could be called that—were mutated things, grown sideways or upside-down, some with bark that pulsed like skin.
Lira lit a charm lamp and held it high. The light turned green, then red. "We have one hour until the spores rise. After that, we either run or grow extra mouths."
---
Inside the March, every sound echoed. Not because of acoustics, but something deeper. A corruption in reality. Kael could hear himself breathe twice—once from his mouth, and again from behind his own ears, delayed by a heartbeat.
"Don't speak unless you have to," Aren whispered. "Your words last longer here. They attract echoes."
"What are echoes?"
"Manifested regrets. Lost thoughts. Copies of people who died unfulfilled."
Drex chuckled. "So basically half my exes."
Aren didn't laugh.
They reached the vault as the charm lamp turned orange. The entrance was hidden beneath a rusted bridge, guarded by vines that moved like snakes. Aren used a sequence of clicks and light flashes to trick the growths into parting.
The door opened with a long hiss.
Inside was darkness and stale air. But it was dry, and more importantly—safe.
---
The vault was a relic of the old war: a domed chamber with walls lined in faded sigils and cryo-stasis pods, most shattered. A console still flickered in one corner, powered by a humming node that pulsed weakly.
Aren and Drex immediately went to work.
Kael took a seat beside Lira, who had begun assembling a construct from her kit—a spherical automaton with telescoping arms.
"What is it?" he asked.
"A memory dredger. It pulls lingering echoes from the air. Sometimes they can be shaped into information."
"Is that safe?"
She smirked. "Nothing out here is safe. But it's useful."
She activated the device. It buzzed softly, casting a soft lavender glow. After a moment, the air thickened.
A form appeared: translucent, stuttering, hunched. An old woman, her face lined with grief.
"They came in fire," she whispered. "Burned the river. Took the children. Said it was for the bloodline..."
The image stuttered, flickered, and collapsed.
Kael clenched his fists. "What bloodline?"
"One of the Ascendant lines," Aren said, having overheard. "Back when the talent clans fought over purity. They believed only certain blood carried divine potential."
Kael frowned. "But that's just a myth, right?"
She gave him a look. "We all live inside a myth. The difference is whether we question it."
---
Later, Aren unsealed the schematic core. It floated above the vault floor, spinning slowly, wrapped in threads of data-light and containment glyphs. It emitted a hum like a heartbeat.
"This," she said, "is a pre-Ascension relic. Designed to stabilize artificial fusions."
Kael stepped closer. "Can we use it?"
"Not yet. It requires a stabilizing core... and a source willing to be overwritten."
Kael blinked. "Overwritten?"
"Sacrificed," Drex said bluntly. "You want fusion? You lose something in the trade. Might be memory. Might be blood. Might be... more."
Kael stared at the schematic. He felt the ember-flame respond to it, not with hunger, but recognition. As if two pieces of a larger puzzle had come close.
"Can I try?" he asked.
Aren shook her head. "Not now. You're not ready. And if you fail, it could fry us all."
Kael reluctantly stepped back.
But his mind was racing.
---
That night, the vault trembled.
Kael awoke to alarms. The schematic core was flashing, pulsing wildly.
Outside, shrieks echoed through the March. Not human. Not beast. Something in-between.
"They found us!" Lira shouted.
Drex cursed, drawing his blade. Aren began shoving gear into her satchel.
Kael grabbed the schematic core.
"What are you doing?!" Aren yelled.
"Buying us time."
He ran to the vault entrance, heart hammering. The ember-flame was surging now, begging to be released. He placed the schematic on the floor and stood over it.
He focused.
Chains. Fire. Song.
Bind the flame. Weave the thread.
The schematic flared. Energy crackled. The vault began to collapse.
Behind him, the others screamed for him to stop.
But Kael felt calm.
He touched the schematic.
Gray light erupted.
---
When Kael awoke, everything was silent.
The schematic was gone.
So were the echoes.
His hands glowed faintly. The ember-flame had changed. More coherent now. Sharper.
Aren knelt beside him. Her face was pale. "You fused with it. Didn't you?"
Kael nodded.
Drex whistled. "You mad bastard."
Lira looked both horrified and amazed. "How did you survive?"
Kael stood, unsure how to answer.
But inside, he felt a new presence.
Not a voice.
A purpose.
Something ancient had awakened.
And it had chosen him.
---