The wind howled as they stood on the edge of the ruins. Velhym Station loomed behind them, its twisted silhouette outlined in the pale light of dawn. Smoke curled lazily from what was left of the corridor where they had battled the Storm's Chosen. The station had gone silent again, but the echo of what had happened still hung in the air like a curse.
Kael adjusted the strap on his pack, the Core inside him faintly pulsing. He could still feel the connection to the crystalline relic they'd left sealed in the vault, but the voice — the one that had called him the Key — had gone quiet.
"We shouldn't linger," Lira said, brushing soot off her cloak. "They know we were here. If the Storm's Chosen survived, they'll regroup. If not, someone else will come looking."
"Agreed," Drex grunted, running a hand through his blood-matted hair. "We've stirred the hornet's nest."
Kael nodded. "We head south. The map Aren pulled shows an old rail line that runs to the outer fringe. There's a settlement marked there — Shatterbridge. Tasha Elen was last recorded near it."
Aren raised a brow. "You're sure she's real? We're basing a lot on scraps of Guild intel."
"I'm not sure," Kael admitted. "But she's the only gene-scribe left who might understand how to stabilize this." He tapped his chest. "The Core's evolving. I can feel it changing me. If I don't figure this out soon…"
"You won't become the weapon they feared," Lira finished, softer this time. "We won't let that happen."
Kael met her eyes. "Then let's move."
---
The ruins faded behind them as they followed the cracked highway southward. The terrain was brutal — broken roads, gnarled steel trees sprouting from the earth like veins of some long-dead god, and skies marbled with shifting ash clouds.
On the second day, the silence broke.
Boom.
The ground shuddered, dust spiraling from a nearby slope.
"Seismic?" Drex asked, reaching for his axe.
"No… that was controlled," Lira replied, scanning with her scope. "An energy detonation."
Kael frowned. "Could be scavengers testing weapons. Or worse."
They reached the ridge, crouched behind twisted debris. Below, in a rusted crater that once held a satellite hub, a team in black-and-red armor — not Storm's Chosen, but something leaner, more professional — worked around a humming device embedded in the earth.
"Echo Purists," Aren whispered, venom in his voice. "Didn't think they'd make it this far north."
Kael's jaw tightened. The Purists believed in cleansing the world of all artificial talents — including the Core. If they knew he carried it...
"We circle around," he said. "No engagement. We can't afford delays."
They moved through the shattered outskirts, avoiding sensor drones and scouting teams. It slowed them down. By nightfall, a dust storm forced them into shelter beneath a derelict overpass.
As the storm howled outside, Kael sat by a flickering heat rod, staring at his palm. Blue lines glowed faintly beneath the skin — not veins, but circuit-like traces that hadn't been there a week ago.
"It's spreading," he murmured.
Lira sat beside him. "That relic bonded deeper than we expected."
"It's not just a bond," Kael said. "It's… rewriting me. My thoughts. My instincts. I dream in schematics. I wake up with knowledge I didn't have before."
"You think that's a bad thing?"
"I think I'm not in control."
Lira paused. "Tasha Elen helped design the gene-tempering arrays during the Collapse. If anyone can separate you from the Core's influence—"
"I don't want it separated," Kael interrupted. "I want to master it."
She studied him, eyes narrowed. "That hunger... it's what they warned about in the Prophecy of Fracture. The Key who unlocks power and ruin."
Kael didn't answer. He stared into the firelight, the glow on his skin pulsing in sync with the flames.
---
By day five, they reached the edge of the Scorchlands — a blackened expanse of vitrified sand and lightning-ravaged glass. Shatterbridge lay beyond, a fortress-city balanced on broken cliff faces and strung together with cables and walkways.
But between them and it stood a blockade.
At least twenty armored figures — not Echo Purists, not Storm's Chosen — guarded a checkpoint lined with salvage mechs and plasma cannons. Their insignia was unfamiliar: a stylized eye with jagged wings.
"Mercs?" Drex asked.
"No… too disciplined," Aren said. "These guys are military. Old world, maybe reformed."
A banner flapped in the wind. Kael recognized the symbol. "Sentinel Wardens," he whispered. "They survived."
Lira blinked. "I thought the Sentinel program collapsed after the war."
"Not entirely, it seems," Kael said. "They were protectors once. But if they're here… then something bigger is happening."
They approached cautiously. A voice rang out through a speaker post: "State your names and intentions."
Kael stepped forward. "I'm Kael. We're en route to Shatterbridge. We seek Tasha Elen."
There was a long pause.
Then: "Kael of Velhym. The one with the Core."
The air thickened.
"Hold your ground," Drex warned.
The checkpoint doors hissed open. A woman stepped out — tall, silver hair braided with metal threads, eyes glowing faintly. She wore Warden armor, but it had been modified.
"I am Commander Veyra," she said. "We've been expecting you."
Kael's heart sank. "How?"
"Tasha Elen sent word. She wants to meet. But she warned us too: if you are compromised, we are to stop you by any means necessary."
Kael met her gaze, unblinking. "Then let's find out which one I am."
---