The silence didn't feel empty.
It felt listening.
Kael became aware of it slowly, the way one becomes aware of being watched—not through sound or sight, but through a tightening in the chest, a subtle pressure behind the eyes. The maintenance shaft was narrow and angular, its walls etched with conduits that glowed faintly blue, pulsing in a rhythm that was no longer random.
It had settled.
Into a heartbeat.
Lysandra noticed it too.
She stood rigid a few steps away, blade lowered but not sheathed, eyes tracking the light crawling along the Veins like slow-moving blood beneath translucent skin.
"You feel that," she said. It wasn't a question.
Kael nodded. His throat was dry. "It's… calmer."
Her lips pressed thin. "That's worse."
The shaft trembled, just slightly—like the world exhaling after holding its breath for too long. Dust drifted from the ceiling in thin silver strands. Somewhere far below, something enormous shifted.
Kael swallowed. "You said I was marked."
Lysandra didn't answer right away. She crouched and pressed her palm to the floor. The light surged brighter at her touch, responding like a muscle tightening under skin.
"I said you don't trigger a pulse unless you're marked," she corrected. "I didn't say I knew how."
She stood again, turning to face him fully now. In the muted glow, he could see her more clearly—sharp cheekbones smudged with grime, a thin scar slicing through her left eyebrow, eyes too old for her age.
"How old are you?" Kael asked quietly.
She blinked, thrown by the question. "Why?"
"Because you move like someone who's been running their whole life."
A humorless smile tugged at her mouth. "Seventeen."
Kael absorbed that. Younger than him. And already carrying the weight of worlds.
"I'm nineteen," he said. "If that matters."
"It doesn't," she replied. Then paused. "…But good. You're not a child."
She turned away and began moving down the shaft.
Kael followed.
The passage opened gradually into a broader tunnel—one of the ancient arteries that fed directly into the deeper Vein chambers. The walls here were smoother, older, etched with symbols that looked less like writing and more like instructions.
Kael felt drawn to them.
The relic beneath his coat grew warmer, thrumming in sync with the lights around them. Each step he took felt guided, as though the floor itself subtly inclined him in the right direction.
Lysandra noticed his hesitation.
"It's pulling you," she said.
"Yes."
"That means it's begun."
A chill ran down his spine. "Begun what?"
She stopped walking.
The lights dimmed.
Then flared.
The Veins answered.
A low, resonant sound rolled through the tunnel—not a noise exactly, but a vibration so deep it bypassed the ears and went straight into bone. Kael staggered, bracing himself against the wall.
Images slammed into him.
Not memories.
Signals.
A city skyline, Sunbound towers gleaming. A shadow moving beneath them. Machines waking. Eyes opening underground.
Kael gasped, clutching his head. "I—I can see—"
"I know," Lysandra said sharply. "Don't fight it. That makes it worse."
"How do you know that?"
"Because the first time I fought it, I blacked out for three days."
He looked at her in shock. "You're marked too?"
Her jaw tightened. "Not like you."
The tunnel widened again—this time into a massive cavern where the Veins converged. Thick pillars of glowing conduit rose from the floor like cathedral columns, disappearing into darkness above. At the center of the chamber floated a massive crystalline node, fractured and humming with unstable light.
Kael felt like he was standing inside a heart.
And it was beating faster.
Far above them—miles away—the Sunbound Capital shuddered.
Citizens paused mid-step as the ground vibrated beneath their feet. Vein-powered transports stalled. The hovering prisms flickered. In the Luminary Hall, alarms began to sing.
Deep in the council chambers, Minister Coradan's head snapped up.
"So," he murmured, smiling thinly. "It's started."
Back in the cavern, Lysandra was staring at the central node with open dread.
"It's never done this," she whispered.
Kael's chest tightened. "What happens if it keeps escalating?"
She didn't look at him. "Best case? Localized system awakening. Power surges. Memory bleed."
"And worst case?"
Her voice dropped. "Another Sundering."
The word landed like a blade.
"That was two hundred years ago," Kael said. "That can't just… happen again."
"The Veins don't care about 'again,'" Lysandra replied. "They care about cycles."
The relic burned hot against his skin now. Kael pulled it free, holding it up.
The moment it was exposed, the central node reacted violently.
Light surged outward in spirals. The chamber roared to life. Symbols ignited across the walls, forming patterns Kael understood without knowing how.
A name echoed through his mind.
Aurelia.
He staggered.
Lysandra grabbed his arm. "What did you see?"
"A woman," he said hoarsely. "White hair. Standing in light. She was—she was controlling this place."
Lysandra went pale. "That's not possible."
"You said that before."
"Yes," she snapped. "Because she's a myth."
The node cracked.
A thin fracture split its surface, leaking raw blue-white energy that spilled into the air like mist. The Veins pulsed faster, their rhythm accelerating toward something frantic.
Kael felt it then—recognition.
Not his recognition.
The Veins'.
They knew him.
Not as Kael.
But as something older.
Something stored.
Aboveground, the city lights dimmed.
Across the continents, ancient systems stirred. Long-dormant Vein nodes flickered to life in Shadefall ruins. Archivists screamed as sealed chambers unlocked themselves.
And deep beneath the world, something vast shifted in its sleep.
Lysandra backed away from the node. "We have to leave. Now."
Kael didn't move.
He couldn't.
The Veins were speaking directly to him now—not in words, but in intention. He felt doors opening inside his mind, memories unthreading.
A voice—not his own, not hers—brushed the edge of thought.
—Cycle detected—
—Administrator fragment identified—
—Synchronization incomplete—
Kael screamed.
The light exploded outward.
Lysandra was thrown back hard, slamming into a pillar. The cavern shook violently as alarms—ancient, mechanical—began to wail.
Kael dropped to his knees, relic clutched to his chest, vision fracturing.
And in the blinding white—
he saw her again.
Aurelia.
Not as a myth.
Not as a goddess.
But as a terrified girl standing at the center of the world, whispering:
"Please… don't let it happen again."
The Veins roared.
Aboveground, the sky cracked with light.
The world had noticed.
And it was afraid.
q