In the infirmary, the atmosphere was vastly different from the chaos of the hours prior. The flickering lanterns had been dimmed to a low, amber glow to conserve energy and reduce the Sanctuary's thermal signature. The air was cool, smelling faintly of the antiseptic herbs the nurses used and the metallic tang of dried blood.
Zane lay on a cot adjacent to Elias. Every breath he took felt like a battle against his own ribs. The Bio-Channeling had left his muscular system frayed, his veins feeling like they were filled with liquid lead. His skin was mottled with the purplish bruises of the frostbite the Specter had inflicted, but the internal heat of his blood was already working, slowly knitting the damaged tissue back together. His body was a map of bruised purple and angry red welts where the Specter's anti-vitality field had touched him. His eyes were open, staring at the vaulted stone ceiling, tracking the rhythmic flicker of a torch. Beside him, in a smaller cot, Elias remained in a medically induced sleep, her breathing steady but shallow. Lyra sat between them, her head resting on the edge of Zane's cot, her fingers loosely entwined with his. She had finally succumbed to exhaustion, her wolf ears twitching occasionally in a restless dream.
He wasn't asleep. He couldn't afford to be.
He watched Elias. She looked so small beneath the heavy wool blankets. Her breathing was shallow but steady. The nurse had cleared the dark bruise under her eye with a specialized salve, but the mental trauma of the Specter's cold grip was something no medicine could touch.
Suddenly, her hand moved. Her fingers brushed against the empty space where her water cup usually sat. Her eyes fluttered open—not with the peacefulness of waking, but with a sharp, gasping intake of air.
"Zane?" she whispered, her voice cracking.
Zane forced himself to sit up, suppressing a groan as his core muscles protested. He shifted to the edge of his cot, reaching out to take her small, trembling hand. "I'm here, Elias. You're safe. The monster is gone."
Elias looked around the dim room, her wide eyes searching the shadows for the white voids of the Specter. "It was so cold," she shivered, clutching his hand like a lifeline. "It felt like it was drinking the light out of me."
"It can't touch you anymore," Zane promised, his voice low and fierce. "I promise, Elias. No more monsters."
"You looked like one," she said softly, looking at the dried blood still staining his hairline. "When you fought it. Your face... it was red."
Zane flinched. The guilt he had been holding at bay rushed back, cold and sharp. "I had to... I had to be strong enough to stop it."
"You weren't a monster," she corrected, her voice small but certain. "You were just... loud. Your heart. I could hear it through the cold. It sounded like a drum. It was the only thing I could hear."
The infirmary was a landscape of whispered voices and the low hum of medical equipment, a stark contrast to the violent vortex it had been an hour prior. The air felt different now—heavy and sluggish. The dampeners Liam had initiated were already taking effect, a thick, invisible veil of static that made every breath feel like pulling air through wool.
The heavy door groaned open. Kaelen stepped in, his presence immediately cutting through the static of the dampeners. He didn't look like the invincible warrior who had vaporized the door earlier; he looked like a man who had seen the end of the world and was simply waiting for the fire to reach him.
Zane's head turned slowly toward him. "Is she... okay?" his voice was a rasp, his throat still raw from the telepathic screaming of the creature.
"She's stable," Kaelen said, walking to the foot of the cot. He didn't offer a smile. "Her power surged during the attack. The nurses say her internal rhythm is erratic, but the dampeners are helping keep her 'quiet.' She won't be waking up for a few hours."
Zane looked back at the ceiling. "The creature... it called itself a Specter. It said I was an 'error.'"
"It's a machine of meat and shadow, Zane. It doesn't have a soul, only an objective," Kaelen replied, his voice hardening. "It was a scout. A hunter sent to find the frequency of the Prime. Because you fought it, it had to escalate. Because you survived, it had to signal back to its origin."
Zane's hand tightened around Lyra's. "So they're coming."
"They are already on their way," Kaelen stated flatly. "We've initiated the Protocol of Shadows. This mountain is shutting down. No lights in the upper galleries, no kinetic lifts, no communication relays. We are burying ourselves."
Kaelen leaned over the cot, his glowing eyes—now dim but piercing—locked onto Zane's. "But there's a leak in the hull, Zane. You. And her."
He gestured to Elias, then back to Zane. "Your blood manipulation is loud. Even now, resting, your heart rate is a drumbeat in the psychic ether. To a Facility tracker, you're a flare in the middle of a dark ocean. If we go dark and you stay 'bright,' you're the beacon that leads them straight to our throats."
Zane tried to sit up, a wince of pain crossing his face as his cracked ribs protested. "What do I do?"
"You learn to stop being," Kaelen said. "Training starts in four hours. I don't care if you can barely walk. You and Lyra are moving to the sub-level grotto. It's the deepest point in the Sanctuary, surrounded by natural lead and quartz deposits that will help mask your signatures. But the mask won't be enough. You have to master Erasure."
He walks over to the entrance to the infirmary. He stands there for about 8 minutes.
"You're broadcasting," Kaelen said, his voice cutting through the quiet.
Zane looked up, confused. "What?"
"Even now, while you're sitting still, I can feel the heat of your blood from the doorway," Kaelen explained, walking toward them. "To a seeker or a Specter, you're a flare in the middle of a dark forest. You're trying to heal yourself, and in doing so, you're pushing your metabolic rate through the roof."
Kaelen stood over Zane's cot. "The council has given us three days, but the Facility will likely give us less. You've mastered the Rage. You've glimpsed the Stillness. Now, you must master the Void."
"How?" Zane asked, his hand still holding Elias's. "My power is motion. It's a pulse. How do I make my heart stop being 'loud'?"
"You don't make it stop," Kaelen said, leaning down. "You make it internal. Right now, your energy is radiating outward. You need to learn to loop it. Every bit of heat, every bit of kinetic vibration, every bit of bio-electric signal must be pulled back into your marrow. You need to become a closed circuit."
Kaelen looked at Elias, then back at Zane. "Lyra is outside. She's exhausted, but she's the only one who can help you mask the 'noise' while you learn. We start in an hour."
"I can't leave her," Zane said, looking at Elias.
"She's coming with us," Kaelen replied. "If the Facility arrives, they won't find two separate signatures. They'll find one patch of 'nothing' in the middle of the mountain. You two are going to learn how to disappear together."
Zane looked at Elias, who gave his hand a brave, tiny squeeze. The weight of the situation—the Protocol of Shadows—was beginning to set in. They weren't just refugees anymore; they were a secret that had to be kept at all costs.