CHAPTER 15: FAULT LINES
The tunnels beneath Aurelis did not forgive hesitation.
They twisted and narrowed like veins beneath the city's skin—old transport routes, emergency corridors, abandoned resonance conduits humming faintly with forgotten energy. Lights flickered inconsistently, some dead for decades, others sputtering like they remembered their purpose too late.
Dave moved carefully, one hand brushing the wall as his resonance stayed spread just enough to warn him of collapses, traps, or pursuit.
Victoria followed three steps behind.
Always three.
Not close enough to touch him.
Not far enough to run.
Her boots scraped softly against the concrete. Every sound felt too loud in the quiet.
"You don't have to keep that distance," Dave said gently, without turning.
"I do," she replied.
He nodded, accepting it.
They moved in silence for a while, the air thick with dust and old heat. Dave felt her fear like static—erratic, sharp, restrained only by exhaustion.
"Does he always leave you alone when he goes out?" Dave asked eventually.
Victoria hesitated.
"…Sometimes."
That was answer enough.
Dave slowed slightly. "When did you meet him?"
Her steps faltered.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because understanding patterns saves lives," Dave replied. "And because you deserve to tell it on your own terms."
She swallowed.
"He was the one that killed my family," she said quietly.
Dave stopped walking.
He turned slowly.
"I'm sorry," he said.
Victoria laughed once, hollow. "No need for pity"
He didn't respond with another apology. He waited.
"He told me after," she continued. "When everything was already… broken. He said I had potential. That my resonance was rare. That I could survive."
Her voice wavered.
"I didn't know what to do."
Dave's jaw tightened.
"What really happened to your family?" he asked softly.
Her hands curled into fists.
"It's like I said. He killed them."
The words didn't come out loud.
They fell.
Dave felt the resonance shift violently around her—grief folding inward, condensing into something sharp.
"I can't ," she added quickly, as if it really mattered " I can't wrap my head around why he actually chose my family. Why my family? We didn't do anything wrong, did we? Is it bad to be happy now?"
She looked up at the ceiling, eyes shining.
"But he did it . He seemed to know what he was doing. And when I screamed at him later, he said—"
Her voice broke.
"—he said casualties are just timing errors."
Dave exhaled slowly.
"That's when you became useful to him," he said.
She nodded once.
Silence returned, heavier now.
They resumed walking.
"Do you hate him?" Dave asked after a while.
She didn't answer.
Not because she didn't hear him.
Because the answer scared her.
The Record Vault trembled.
Not from damage—but from pressure.
Resonance built like a held breath, thickening the air between X and the others until it felt impossible that sound could still exist inside it.
Leviathan stood coiled, ready to strike.
Paul shifted his stance subtly.
James' jaw was clenched so tight it ached.
Mary's eyes flicked between X and Aria, worry tightening her chest.
And Aria—
Aria stared at the mask.
Her heart stuttered.
Then memory rushed in without permission.
Sunlight spilled across the training yard.
They were younger then. Smaller. Louder.
X sat on the low stone wall, boots kicked up, laughing—actually laughing—as Aria struggled to maintain balance on a drill platform while simultaneously channeling her resonance perfectly.
"Stop shaking," he said, amused. "You're fighting it."
"I'm not!" she snapped, nearly falling.
He hopped down and steadied her without thinking, hands firm and warm.
"Listen to it," he said quietly. "Resonance isn't a weapon first. It's a language."
She looked up at him, wide-eyed.
"You make it sound easy."
He smiled.
"It is. When you stop being afraid of what you are."
Later that night, they lay on the roof together, staring at the stars.
"Do you think we'll ever fight each other? Like is there a chance we will be enemies?" Aria asked suddenly.
X went still.
"No," he said immediately. "I won't let that happen."
She believed him.
"Thanks. That's why you're my favorite sibling"
The memory shattered.
Aria gasped softly, eyes burning.
Before anyone could stop her, she moved.
She stepped into the space between X and the others, arms outstretched.
"Stop!" she cried.
Leviathan shouted her name.
Paul swore.
X froze.
Aria's voice trembled, but she didn't retreat.
"Please," she said, looking straight at the mask. "I know you're angry. I know you're hurt. But this—this isn't the only path."
The air vibrated dangerously.
"You don't have to carry this alone," she continued. "You don't have to become this."
Her chest tightened.
"I remember who you were. I remember you protecting us. Teaching us. Laughing with us."
Her voice cracked.
"You were my brother."
Silence.
For a moment—just one—something shifted.
Then X spoke.
Cold.
Measured.
"I can't believe you," he said
Aria flinched.
"So you still think you're innocent," he continued. "That you're different. That you didn't help build this world filled with useless lies. That's really tragic"
"That's not—" she started.
"I've accepted what I am," X said sharply. "I'm a monster."
The word echoed.
"Why can't you do the same?"
His voice dropped.
"You all can just suffer."
The temperature plummeted.
Blood resonance surged.
Leviathan reacted instantly—but too late.
X moved.
Fast enough to blur.
The strike landed on Leviathan.
Somewhere else entirely—
A quiet house.
Old wood.
Dim light.
A door stood closed.
On the other side, voices murmured calmly, disconnected from the violence unfolding beneath the city.
"He's made contact with his siblings," one voice said.
A pause.
"That's good," another replied. "It accelerates emotional instability."
"Should we intervene?"
"No. Redirect the other players."
A soft chuckle.
"As you wish."
Silence fell.
Then—
"This game…" the second voice said thoughtfully, "…is finally interesting."
The door remained closed.
And across Aurelis, fault lines deepened—between family, between truth and memory, between who they were and what they were becoming.
The clash had begun.
And no one would walk away untouched.