Kaelen pulled a stool over, his face illuminated by the faint blue light of the dampener nodes in the walls.
"Bio-Channeling isn't just about pushing your blood to move faster or hit harder. It's about entropy. You need to learn how to pull the heat and energy of your life force into a singular, microscopic point—the 'Knot' you created instinctively during the fight. But instead of using it as a shield, you use it as a sinkhole."
"I have to stop my heart?" Zane asked, a flicker of fear in his eyes.
"No. You have to make the world think your heart has stopped," Kaelen corrected. "You will learn to cycle your blood in a closed, pressurized loop that emits no heat and no electrical signature. It's agonizing. It feels like your limbs are turning to stone. But it is the only way to become a ghost."
Zane looked at Lyra, who was starting to stir at the sound of their voices. He thought of Dr. Alden. He thought of the "God-complex" Kaelen had described—the man who wanted to turn Elias into a battery for a world of monsters.
"I'll do it," Zane said, his voice regaining its edge. "If it keeps her safe, I'll turn into a statue."
"Good," Kaelen said, standing up. "Because Lyra's job is just as hard. She won't just be masking Elias; she'll be the one keeping you tethered to reality. If you sink too deep into Erasure, you won't come back. Your body will simply forget how to live. She is the Stabilizing Medium for a reason—she is your heartbeat when you can't have one of your own."
Kaelen turned to the door, pausing with his hand on the stone frame. "Get what rest you can. When the bells toll three times, the Sanctuary goes dark. Make sure you're in the water by then."
As Kaelen left, Lyra sat up, rubbing her eyes. She looked at Zane, then at the bruised, broken state of his body. She had heard enough to know what was coming.
"Erasure," she whispered, her purple eyes wide. "Zane, that's... that's what the Specters use. They're called Specters because they have no life-signs. He's asking you to mimic the thing that tried to kill us."
Zane reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. His skin was still cold from the encounter. "He's asking me to be the shield, Lyra. You heard him. Alden wants to turn her into a key. I won't let him have the lock."
"Then I won't let go," Lyra promised, leaning into his touch. "I'll be the heartbeat. I promise."
Outside, the first of the three bells began to toll. A deep, mournful bronze sound that echoed through the stone ribs of the mountain. One by one, the distant hums of the Sanctuary's life—the ventilation fans, the glowing light-strips, the murmurs of the crowd—began to die.
The siege had not yet arrived, but the Sanctuary was already becoming a tomb.
The second bell tolled, its vibration humming through the stone floor and rattling the medical trays. The amber glow of the infirmary lanterns flickered and died, replaced by the weak, greenish luminescence of emergency chemical sticks. The "Protocol of Shadows" was no longer a plan; it was a physical weight, pressing down on the Sanctuary as the mountain's mechanical heart was slowed to a crawl.
Moving Elias was a silent, grim affair. Zane, despite his fractured ribs, insisted on carrying her, his blood-enhanced musculature providing a steady, vibration-free cradle for the sleeping girl. Lyra walked at his side, her hand resting on the small of his back, acting as a constant sensory anchor. Kaelen led them down, bypassing the now-dead kinetic lifts and taking a series of narrow, winding stairs carved into a vein of light-absorbing quartz.
As they descended, the temperature dropped. The air became thick with the scent of wet stone and ancient earth. Finally, they reached the sub-level grotto.
It was a cathedral of shadow. Massive pillars of raw quartz rose from a black, glassy pool of mineral-rich water. The walls were lined with thick plates of lead and copper—remnants of a forgotten mining era—which now served as the ultimate Faraday cage for psychic and energetic signatures.
"In the water," Kaelen commanded, his voice a dry rasp in the gloom.
Zane carefully lowered Elias onto a raised stone platform draped in furs near the water's edge. Lyra stepped into the pool first, the water swirling around her waist as she reached out for Zane. He waded in, the shock of the cold making his breath hitch.
"Sit," Kaelen said, standing on the shore, his eyes the only light in the room. "Zane, you are the heat. Lyra, you are the shroud. Zane, I want you to find the 'Knot.' Not in your chest, but in your very marrow."
Zane closed his eyes, leaning back into the water until only his face was exposed. Lyra moved behind him, her arms wrapping around his chest, her chin resting on his shoulder. He could feel her heartbeat—a steady, comforting rhythm against his back.
"Now," Kaelen's voice came from the dark. "Stop pushing the blood. Stop the healing. Pull the heat back. Imagine every drop of your blood is a cooling ember. Pull it into the center of your bones. Create the sinkhole."
Zane focused. Usually, his power was an explosion—a rush of crimson pressure. This was the opposite. He had to reach into the frantic, healing warmth of his veins and drag it backward. It felt like trying to pull a rushing river back into a single straw.
The pain was immediate and agonizing.
As the heat left his extremities, his fingers and toes went numb, then began to throb with a deep, crystalline ache. His heart, sensing the drop in core temperature, tried to compensate by beating faster, harder—becoming a louder "drum" in the ether.
"No!" Kaelen barked. "Control the pulse. Don't let it fight you. Loop it. Force the heart to feed only itself."
Zane's body began to shiver violently. The water around him started to steam—a tell-tale sign of the heat he was failing to contain.
"Lyra, mask him," Kaelen ordered.
Lyra closed her eyes, her brow furrowing. She didn't just move the water; she manipulated its molecular vibration. She pulled the steam back down, weaving a layer of "still" water around Zane's skin that acted as a thermal insulator. She channeled her own cool, calm energy into him, trying to pace his heart with her own.
Focus on me, her voice whispered in his mind, a psychic echo born of their proximity. I am the beat. Follow me.
Zane latched onto her rhythm. He visualized his blood not as a rushing torrent, but as a slow, thick sludge, circling in a tight, pressurized loop within his bones. The shivers began to subside as his body entered a state of profound, artificial hypothermia.
The "loudness" in his mind—the constant, buzzing pressure of his own power—began to fade. The world started to go grey. His limbs didn't just feel like stone; they felt like they were disappearing into the water itself.
"Deeper," Kaelen whispered. "Disappear, Zane. Become the void."
Zane felt himself slipping. The edges of his consciousness were fraying. He was no longer a man; he was a cold, silent weight in the dark. The pain was gone, replaced by an alluring, terrifying emptiness. He was sinking into the "Sinkhole," and he didn't want to come back.
Suddenly, a sharp, rhythmic pulse thudded against his back.
Zane! Come back! Lyra's mental scream was a lightning strike in the void. She squeezed him tighter, her warmth the only thing keeping his soul from being swallowed by his own entropy.
Zane gasped, his eyes snapping open. He didn't splash; the water around him remained eerily still.
"Look," Kaelen said softly.
Zane looked down at his own chest. His skin was a pale, ghostly blue. He couldn't feel his breath. He couldn't feel his pulse. For the first time in his life, the "noise" of Subject Zero was silent.
The third bell tolled—a distant, final thud that signaled the total shutdown of the Sanctuary.
In the absolute darkness of the grotto, there was no heat. No light. No signature. On the platform, Elias was a faint, muffled spark. Lyra was a steady, low hum. And Zane... Zane was a hole in the world.
"You did it," Kaelen whispered. "For three minutes, you didn't exist."
"I... I can't feel my hands," Zane croaked, his voice barely a vibration.
"Good," Kaelen replied, his tone grim. "Because the Sentinels just reported a displacement in the upper atmosphere. The Facility didn't wait forty-eight hours. They're here."
Zane felt Lyra stiffen behind him. In the silence of the "Void," he realized the true horror of their situation. To stay hidden, he had to stay in this state of near-death. If he fought, he would be found. If he stayed still, he might freeze into the very statue he promised to become.
"They've sent more than Specters," Kaelen continued, his voice tight. "They've brought a Resonance Array. They're going to try and 'ping' the mountain like a sonar. If you slip for even a second, the whole mountain will light up like a star."
Zane leaned back into Lyra, his cold skin pressing against her warmth. The siege had begun, and his only weapon was his ability to be nothing.