Zander's world had shattered and reformed in silence.
When the resonance vial's power struck him, it wasn't like an explosion. It was a click, like a puzzle piece locking into place after years of searching. He remembered the convulsions, the pressure in his chest, the storm of vibrations that had nearly drowned him. But after the violence came clarity.
Every cell of his body had begun to hum—quiet, steady, and terrifyingly alive. He felt it not as an invasion, but as though his body had been waiting for this note all along, waiting for the world's pitch to match his own.
Now, sitting in the dim light of his quarters, Zander could still feel it. The walls weren't silent anymore; they carried the faint hum of energy pulsing through the building. The floor beneath him whispered of the footsteps that had passed before, the tiny imperfections in the stone carrying echoes like scars.
I'm different now, he thought, clenching and unclenching his fist. He could still remember Slade's words: You are close.
But this wasn't just close. This was a threshold crossed.
A sharp knock rattled his door.
"Kael." Slade's voice carried no wasted tone. "Time."
Zander rose, still unsteady, and followed him through the stone corridors until the training hall loomed before them. The air there was heavy with anticipation, filled with hundreds of cadets, instructors, and high-ranking officials. Every human present knew the stakes: this encounter with the Lygari was more than a test. It was a chance to show humanity wasn't doomed to crawl in the dirt of failure forever.
The three chosen—Zander, Joren, and Lyra—were ushered to the front. The rest of the cadets remained in ordered rows, their faces pale but eyes sharp with envy, awe, and fear.
Zander lowered himself onto a bench, trying to steady his breath. But the world didn't let him rest.
It wasn't silence anymore.
He could feel the tiny vibrations of boots scraping against stone, the faint shuffle of nervous cadets adjusting in their seats. Every murmur carried texture, like threads tugging at his awareness.
And then there were the heartbeats.
Dozens of them, scattered across the hall. Fast ones—cadets filled with nerves. Steady ones—the older instructors, composed but taut. He could almost map them, one by one, like flickering lanterns in the dark.
Then the doors opened.
The Lygari entered, and the hall shifted as though a storm had rolled in.
Their footsteps weren't just sounds; they thudded into the floor like hammers, each impact sending vibrations crawling up Zander's bones. Their breathing was heavier, deeper, resonant in a way no human's was. Even their heartbeats struck harder, like drums compared to the soft tapping of human pulses.
Zander's skin prickled. He could feel eyes on him.
One of the Lygari youths—broad-shouldered, with a grin too sharp to be friendly—let his gaze linger a moment too long. Zander felt it, a vibration not of sound, but intent, drilling into his chest. Hostility. The air between them seemed to ripple faintly.
Zander clenched his jaw. His instincts screamed danger, and he realized with a jolt that this wasn't imagination. His body knew the intent before the youth even moved.
His hands curled into fists. The hum inside him rose, thrumming with quiet readiness.
The cadets beside him were whispering anxiously, but to Zander those whispers were painfully distinct, each syllable sharp and separate. He could hear the saliva click in a throat before a word was spoken, the nervous flutter of a chest tightening before laughter was forced out.
It was overwhelming. Too much. Too loud.
He closed his eyes. The storm of sensation threatened to crush him—until something subtle emerged beneath it, a current. If he leaned into it, the noise faded into order, like a song with countless instruments suddenly resolving into harmony.
When he opened his eyes, the hall looked the same. But he felt it differently. Every heartbeat, every hostile gaze, every faint scrape of boot leather on stone—they were all part of the rhythm.
The Lygari's presence was heavier, undeniable. But for the first time in his life, Zander didn't feel small beneath it.
He could hear the beat of their strength. And it was something he could answer.
On the raised platform, Instructor Veylan stood like an unmoved boulder, his presence steady in the storm. His voice cut through the hall.
"Today," he said, "is not simply about victory. It is about dignity. Humanity has tasted humiliation at the hands of the Lygari before. But we are not what we were then." His eyes narrowed, sweeping over the crowd, before fixing on Zander, Lyra, and Joren.
"You three represent more than yourselves. You carry the weight of Project 24-XY. You carry the weight of every human who has shed blood to prove our race will not bow. Remember this: the Lygari are strong. Stronger than us by nature. Most of their kind can triple their force output with their bodies alone. Their muscles, their bones, their instincts—everything in them is made to conquer. Do not expect to win. Expect to fight. To challenge. That is enough."
The words struck like hammer blows. Around the hall, the cadets stiffened, eyes darting to the massive Lygari who had entered with a casual arrogance, their frames broader, their movements predatory.
Zander felt his throat tighten. Triple their force… That meant some of them could hit with thirty, maybe forty thousand newtons. A strike like that would shatter steel.
Veylan continued, unblinking. "But you three—" his voice hardened "—are not normal humans. The transformation has given you tools no generation before you has possessed. Use them. This is no duel of pride. This is survival. Show them we are not prey."
Lyra straightened, her eyes calm but sharp. Zander stole a glance at her. She looked composed, regal even, her hands folded neatly before her. The faint aura around her hinted at her telekinesis, a subtle pressure in the air. She caught Zander's glance and offered the smallest of smiles, a flicker of reassurance that made his chest twist.
Joren smirked, fire in his gaze. He thrived in this atmosphere, the tension feeding him like fuel.
And Zander… Zander just breathed. He felt the hum of the world, the rhythm of it. He wasn't sure what he was yet, only that something inside him had changed.