The morning after the battle at Velhym Station began without sunlight. Just an eerie half-light filtering through a sky choked with ash and clouds. Kael stood silently atop a crumbled tower, staring toward the east where the remains of an old mag-rail line slithered across the gray plains like a dead serpent. Somewhere beyond the horizon, Tasha Elen waited. Or so he hoped.
Lira emerged from the lower levels, tightening the straps of her pack. "We'll need to move fast. Whatever that pulse was last night, it wasn't just us who felt it."
"I know," Kael said. His hand unconsciously brushed the spot on his chest where the Core now resonated like a second heart. "I felt others respond. Like echoes bouncing off a cave wall."
Drex joined them, chewing on a piece of dried root. "Echo Purists," he said grimly. "Storm's Chosen. Core-Eaters. They're all sniffing around now."
"They'll come," Kael agreed. "But we'll be long gone."
Aren emerged last, carrying a makeshift sled loaded with salvaged supplies—filtered water cartridges, power cells, dried mealpacks, and a few rare pieces of functioning tech. "If we don't find shelter tonight," he grunted, "we freeze."
With the mag-rail route compromised, they would have to travel by foot across the Ash Roads—once highways of trade, now little more than crumbling, overgrown remnants littered with the husks of war machines and collapsed relay towers.
---
They left Velhym behind by midday, the station's spires slowly vanishing into the fog behind them like the last bones of a buried god.
The land they crossed was a graveyard. Blackened soil crunched beneath their boots, still infused with residual heat from ancient battles. Pools of silver-blue radiation glowed faintly in the cracks of dry creek beds. Trees, mutated and twisted, reached toward the sky with limb-like branches, their leaves replaced with crystalline growths that hissed when touched.
"This place is dead," Lira murmured. "Even the birds are gone."
"No," Aren corrected, "just quiet. Something's still here. Watching."
Kael felt it too—that unsettling awareness that something, or someone, followed just beyond the edges of their perception. The Core responded subtly, like a barometer reacting to a coming storm.
---
By nightfall, they reached a crumbling gas stop nestled beneath the skeletal remains of a collapsed overpass. It was barely standing, but the walls offered protection from the bitter winds.
They set up a small camp inside, using a salvaged thermal tarp and Drex's old igniter to create a pocket of warmth. Kael sat apart from the others, staring at the flickering hologram of a map projected from his wrist-band. It showed a vast, treacherous route ahead.
Lira approached and sat beside him. "Still no sign of where she is?"
"Tasha Elen was last logged in the Nuven Archives," Kael said. "But that was over three years ago. It's possible she's moved. Or worse."
"She's a gene-scribe," Lira said softly. "If anyone can help you control that thing, it's her. You believe that, right?"
"I have to," Kael replied. "Because if I can't… this thing inside me will either consume me or destroy everything I care about."
Lira nodded. "Then we keep moving. One step at a time."
---
The next few days were a blur of movement.
They crossed broken bridges that buckled under their weight, waded through sinkholes filled with rotting synthetic foam, and fought through dust storms that turned the sky to iron. The Ash Roads tested them at every turn.
One morning, they stumbled upon a derailed cargo train covered in moss and grime. Inside one of the rusted containers, they found crates of preserved medical kits and old nutrient bars—usable, if foul-smelling.
"We're lucky," Drex said as they distributed supplies.
"No," Aren muttered. "We're overdue."
Hours later, the luck ran dry.
---
The attack came at dusk, just as the team was scaling a ridge overlooking a scorched valley. A screech like metal tearing through bone echoed across the plains, followed by the unmistakable buzz of hoverblades.
Core-Eaters.
They descended from the sky—three of them on skiffs cobbled together from old warcraft and reanimated tech. Their armor was patchwork, gleaming with strange symbols. Each of them wore a breathing rig fused directly into their skulls.
Kael's heart surged. The Core inside him blazed to life, reacting instinctively.
"Down!" he shouted, pulling Lira behind a rusted outcrop as plasma bolts hissed through the air.
Drex pulled his weapon—a jagged slug rifle—and returned fire, while Aren lobbed a flash charge that momentarily blinded the attackers.
Kael didn't run. He stepped forward, hand outstretched, focusing the Core's energy. The air warped. A ripple of force exploded from him, slamming into the nearest skiff and sending it careening into the ground in a ball of fire.
The other two Core-Eaters adjusted their approach, this time aiming directly at him.
Kael's vision narrowed. Symbols danced in his mind—unknown scripts, ancient and potent. The Core was trying to speak. Trying to teach.
He raised his hand again, and a shield of transparent force shimmered into existence around them. The plasma bolts struck it and evaporated harmlessly.
Drex took the opening and fired. The last two attackers fell.
---
Afterward, silence returned.
They buried the bodies. Not out of respect, but necessity—Core-Eaters often carried latent tech that could signal reinforcements if left too long.
"Three of them," Lira said, scanning the wreckage. "Just scouts."
"They knew we were here," Aren added. "They were tracking you."
Kael nodded, though he said nothing. The Core was becoming stronger. And more dangerous.
---
That night, Kael dreamt of fire. Not destruction, but creation—stars igniting, civilizations rising, talent awakening in every living soul.
He stood before a throne of glass and light, surrounded by robed figures. One stepped forward, her eyes glowing like the Core itself.
"You carry the last song," she whispered. "It must be sung before the silence."
Kael awoke with a start.
The winds howled outside.
---
The next morning brought a new sight—on the horizon, the faint silhouette of the ancient city of Nareth, now half-swallowed by sand and time.
Kael looked at the skyline with a mix of hope and dread.
"Tasha was said to pass through Nareth," he said. "If she left anything behind, we'll find it there."
"Or we'll find someone who knows where she went," Lira added.
Drex cracked his knuckles. "Let's hope they don't shoot on sight."
Kael smiled faintly. "Wouldn't be the first time."
They set off down the ridge, the dead city waiting for them like a faded memory.
Above them, the hollow skies watched in silence.
---